Soundtrack to My Heart
by soxx
Summary: ...when she’s actually there and in front of me and before my eyes, and not just in my head, it’s like a dream, and it’s like I never want to wake up.” Liley - Complete!
1. Walking On Water

_New story, obviously. Been trying to get this general idea out, and I like the way it's going. Hope you like it. _

_I do not own Hannah Montana, The Walt Disney Company does._

One – Walking On Water

'_Who would I be?  
Where would I be going if I didn't have you to shake my face?  
Why do you care?  
Why do you care so much?  
Your love's such a stretch for my faith'_

Panic.

Softness, on my lips. They tingled, almost itched and burned, but it felt really good.

Gusts of winds forced down my throat, and I felt something bubble up in my chest.

"Lils? Come on Lilly, please, please…" I heard a raspy, southern drawl beg. I saw the same acres and acres of horse pens I imagined Tennessee was made up of the day I met Miley Stewart.

I felt something press against me, up against my chest but something else was in between it.

And then I felt it again; a searing hot softness on my lips. It felt so good I could barely stand it. What the hell _was_ that?

More wind. I felt something jet all the way up my chest, hitting my throat uncomfortably, and I just started coughing. I sat up and opened my eyes to see my own lap. Water sprayed out of my mouth.

Suddenly this piercing ache hit the entire right side of my head. I reached up to try and rip the pain off, like it was a leech that had flung itself there, and found a large, tender lump and GOD that hurt like hell!

"What the h—?" I heard my own voice begin to hiss, until I was suddenly strangled with someone's arms.

My best friend, it's Miley. I blinked. I coughed some more.

"Lillian Truscott, you have NO idea the helluva scare you just put me through! You are never lettin' a finger lick that surf board ever again, you hear me? You can't keep actin' like nothing can ever hurt you Lilly, with all these dangerous things you'er always doin'! I swear I…" she continued her motherly ramble, but I just tuned it out like an idiot. Between my throbbing head and my itching throat, I really couldn't focus on the magenta sunset world beyond my eyelids let alone Miley's mouth spitting out fifty words a second.

My vision was actually a little blurry. I looked around and found that some people were gathered around, all seeming to exhale unison sighs of relief.

"What happened…?"

Miley stopped.

"You, uh… wiped out, Lils," Oliver's voice came from the opposing side of me from Miley's.

"Huh?"

"On your board. In the ocean? Here at Malibu?"

"Ohhh…" I half groaned. It all rushed back to me; this gorgeous cerulean curl, glassy and sweet and particularly tall. I remember hurrying up to it and hastily lifting myself to my feet, surfboard serving as my ground in my hydrogen medium, beginning to carve through the wave—

Then losing my balance, then my head hitting rather stiff sand.

I tried getting to my feet, but my vision blurred and my head spun and I felt like I was flying into the clouds as arms netted across my back. The crowd gasped and murmurs erupted. Oliver told them, "There's nothing to worry about here, folks, she'll be fine.." and most of them trudged away, glancing over their shoulders.

"Don't go so fast, Lilly," Miley's hot breath said in my ear.

And I didn't know why at the time, but I forgot how to breathe, and I was so confused I looked over to her and right at her slightly red lips and in the same second two things hit me:

One—Miley just saved my life by giving me CPR.

Two—I would go through the pain I was feeling in my pulsating head for the rest of my life just to feel her do it again.

I started coughing some more, and my head was being ripped open by a savage cougar. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Miley braced her arm around my back and gingerly draped mine around her shoulders. She cupped my waist and we slowly hobbled our way up the sand bank, and past Rico's.

My eyes were closed as she said, "God, Lilly, you can't keep doing this dangerous shit…"

To anyone else it would sound like Miley was scolding me, which was true, I guess. But I know she only does it when I really scare the shit out of her. And she wants to set me on the right path; she just hopes the best for me.

Who could ask for a better best friend than that?

Even though I tried insisting I would be fine walking on my own (which even I knew was a lie) Miley continued to support me to wherever we were going. So I closed my eyes, because opening them made my head spun more than it already was, and let her guide me.

_  
'Whoa, I don't have to be afraid of the wind.  
And that's good to know.  
'Cause I've heard it all before.  
But I'm walking on water now._

_Whoa, I'm singing in the rain.  
Well that's a joy I've never known.  
'Cause I've heard it all before.  
But I'm walking on water now.'_

_-"Walking on Water," This Providence_


	2. The Middle

_Sorry for the wait, school is kind of eating up time. But here's chapter two! _

_I do not own Hannah Montana, The Walt Disney Company does. I don't own the lyrics of the song recited in this chapter. I don't own That 70's Show or The Real World, either._

Two – The Middle

'_And I don't wanna be nowhere  
Something's makin me go there  
Somewhere in the middle with you'_

Something tickled my forehead, dragged up into my hairline. They were fingers, sweeping through my scalp.

God, I love when people play with my hair.

I guessed the person those fingers belonged to was my mom. She always does this when I'm sick in bed, or injured, in bed, or depressed, in bed. Plus, she's the only one home.

"Mom," I mumbled in a scratchy, groggy voice, "can I have some tea?"

It was so quiet in my bedroom, I could hear her take a breath to talk, but then I heard a girlish giggle.

"Sure you can Lils, but I'm pretty sure I'm not your mom…"

I flipped around, the voice coming from behind me.

And my eyes met Miley, with her wavy brown hair all tangled and pulled loose, the strap of her hot pink tank top slipping down her shoulder, and a smile with a quirked, mocking brow. Her quilt was on top of us; around us were the walls and furniture of her bedroom.

I opened my mouth to ask how I got here, but then I realized how much searing pain I felt, on my head, in my throat, and I suddenly forgot the question.

"Lay down, don't work yourself up… I'll get you tea, stay right there."

She threw off the covers and got up to stretch.

And I don't know why, like I really have no clue _what_ made me, but I happened to have my eyes level with her waist from my place on the bed, and watched as the hem of her shirt rose to reveal the curve of her hip bones and her smooth, tan skin.

And something about the finishing, strenuous groan she made as her muscles relaxed hit me somewhere low. It twisted, and jumped, and then I was just hot all over.

Top three weirdest moments of my life? Uh, yeah, that made the cut.

-

After that strange, strange beginning of a morning, I fell asleep again while Miley was making the tea.

I realized when I woke up how comfy the pillow I was laying on felt. I snuggled deeper into it, and breathed in. It smelled like Miley, actually, which didn't smell too bad.

In fact, Miley smells great. Like… wow, what is it?… Kind of orange-y, and jasmine-y and like whatever fabric softener she uses. Hm. I never noticed that before.

I still hadn't opened my eyes. My own breathing was sluggish, deep and slow. It was relaxing. I concentrated on it, until I felt something _under_ me moving in a rhythm of its own…

Uh, wait…

I opened my eyes slowly, and the fabric of Miley's shirt and the sight of her long hair flooded my vision.

….Awkwarddd…

I slowly tried to untangle my arms from around her, and lift myself up carefully.

"Hey, you're up."

"Mmph—yeah, uh…" I didn't mean to be so embarrassed, but my eyes popped out of my head anyway.

"Yeah, you kind of… fell asleep on me… Here…"

We shifted around awkwardly, and I happened to reposition myself as far as possible from Miley that I could without falling off her bed.

A few quiet seconds passed. The room was dark now; the last light of the day was setting with the sun outside the window up on the room's balcony level.

I noticed the TV was on and sound. She must have been up and watching it…

…Why didn't she just push me off of her? I couldn't help but wonder.

Before I could find an answer, Miley said, "The doctor let us know you're okay, just some bruising and slight swelling. No brain damage… so he said…." She grinned maliciously.

"There was a doctor? Wait, why am I here? Not that I don't love it here at the Stewart residence, but.." I ignored the comment. For now.

"Oh, right, your mom missed her flight back from Detroit, and we told her you could stay with us. She'll be home Sunday morning."

I nodded and turned to the T.V. That 70's Show was on.

"So… how do you feel? Need anything?"

I was still looking at the TV, but I could feel my face narrow into a small incredulous look.

The way Miley was acting… It was so… Well, not strange, but just hearing her offering to do things… I mean, usually her mom-act consists of yelling at me for not doing homework, or not studying, or overworking myself, it's more so _anger_…. But this was kind of nice. Aside that, when she's not mom-ing me, usually, 'Lilly, could you pleeease do this,' 'Lilly could you pleeeease get me that,' 'Aw, but Lils, I'm so comfyyy…'.

This was sweet.

I chuckled. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks, though."

"'How's your head?"

I giggled again. I turned to her. "Miley, you heard the doctor. I'm fine."

"Yeah, but he said—"

"He said I was alright. You don't have to do anything for me."

Miley sighed, defeated. I have to say, I've never seen her like this.

I looked at her. Her lips pouted slightly. Even though we were fifteen, she still managed to act a little childish when she didn't get her way. It was just natural for her, though.

I smiled. "Well, actually, I could use a toothbrush, now that you mention it…"

-

"Here, Lils, lemme fix those pillows for ya'…"

I can't get used to Miley tending my every need… and my every not-need. It's not that it's annoying; because it's not, it's really sweet of her… It's just, it's not Miley. Plus, it's not like I was paralyzed or anything—I could do it myself, honestly. I really never could stand it when people babied me.

It was two mornings after I woke up and found myself at Miley's. I fell asleep about an hour into the Real World marathon we were watching.

She came around to my side of the bed, and motioned for me to lean up so she could fix the pillows. I was confused by the movie we were watching, and turned to her to ask her a question;

And was greeted by a view down her tank top. I was about to tell her to tuck her girls in, before I was overcame by this _hot_ flash. I could even feel the blood rush to my face; I could feel the beads of sweat simmer beneath my skin…

I tried to glance away from her chest, but then my eyes landed on her collar bones, as they lifted and rotated under her skin. I couldn't help but wonder how someone could even have gorgeous collar bones…

"Uh, Miley, hey, I'm kind of warm in here—"

"Say no more, I'll get you some water. Stay right…" she was out the door before I could hear her say 'there'.

Miley was a pretty girl. She was Hannah-frickin'-Montana, for god's sake, of course she was attractive!

Really, she is a natural southern belle. Even though she is a natural southern belle turned Californian. Whatever, she can work it.

The long, brown hair… the tan skin, bold blue grey eyes, full, pretty lips, her raspy voice. And the southern accent, _god_…

And she's grown up since we were kids, of course. She really shot up; long legs, slender figure. Every inch of Miley Stewart is beautiful.

….And it's perfectly normal for people to have internal monologues about how gorgeous their best friends are.

Mmhm.

Miley was back with the water, ice cubes and all. She also brought an ice pack that I let her put on the decreasingly sore lump on my head.

I didn't realize that my heart was beating in my throat until I finished the glass.

'_Crash, fall  
I like it, I like it  
Somewhere in the middle with you'_

_-"The Middle," Demi Lovato_

-

_Mhm, I know its short, but I think the next few will be pretty long. Let me know what you think so far._


	3. A Twist In My Story

_Voici le chapitre trios. Appréciez! _

_Here's chapter three. Enjoy!_

_Je ne possède pas Hannah Montana ou la chanson récitée dans ce chapitre._

_I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter._

Three – A Twist In My Story

'_I'm longing for words to describe how I'm feeling_

_I'm feeling inspired, my world just flipped, turned upside down_

_And turned around, say, what's that sound?_

_It's my heartbeat, it's getting much louder_

_My heartbeat is stronger than ever_

_I'm feeling so alive, I'm feeling so alive…'_

Summer was ending tomorrow, and it was taking my restlessness and annual feeling of relaxation along with it.

I quickly turned to the waves and the concrete as soon as the lump on my head was practically flat, to Miley's dismay. For a while she insisted on coming along to the beach and the skate park, but she stopped after a while. It wasn't because she was bored of watching me and Oliver, since she could never be, but she wanted to let me know she trusted me to be a little more careful.

I didn't see much of Miley after she stopped coming. Hannah had an end of the summer tour, which I didn't go along on. It would have been fun, but…

I've just been feeling like I need some time for myself. I love Miley, she's my best friend, but after spending every second of every day all summer with her, it showed me how relaxing it was to spend time in my own company. So, that's what I've been doing.

Still, I haven't seen her in a few weeks. She came home two nights ago; sent me a text, which I sternly ignored. Whatever, my phone was 'dead'.

I rolled off my bed and inspected myself in the mirror.

I got really tan, which I loved. I hate being pale, it clashes with my hair; which looked pretty nice today. Miley always tells me how she loves my hair, and that when she's Hannah it kind of reminds her of me. Today it was just how I like it; straight and shiny, bangs flipped over and out of my eyes, so I decided against wearing a hat. I've been doing that a lot lately…

I was wearing dark wash jeans and a baby blue tank top layered with a white one. I put on a silver necklace with a cluster of white and metal stars strung on it, and some silver bangles and a hemp bracelet. I stepped into a pair of leather flip flops with white straps, and left. I didn't want to take my board to Miley's, for once in my life.

It was pretty warm out, although the sun was starting to set. The sky was pink and orange. Gorgeous.

I walked down the street, around the corner, down to Rico's, across the road, and up Miley's street.

When I looked up, I saw her sitting at her porch. Her hair was wavy and dark, and she was in a pair of jean shorts and a pretty lime green strapless baby doll that knotted across the chest.

My gut tightened suddenly and I ran my fingers through my hair.

"Hey, Lils!" She was surprised to see me, I was surprised by the hug she wrestled me into. She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed so hard my spine cracked, but she didn't let go.

I felt stupid, because for a moment I just stood there, but then wrapped my arms around her in return, and felt even stupider when I gulped.

I felt stupidest when I found butterflies in my stomach. I must have missed her more than I thought…

_God_, she smells good.

"Uh, Lils?"

Scratch that, I felt stupidest when I realized she let go, like, four seconds ago.

I chuckled, nervously, saying, "Sorryspacedoutalittlethere," so low and fast I barely even understood myself.

She giggled so lightly I thought it was the breeze.

"So," she said, sitting back down on the porch, "what's been up? I really missed you!"

"Oh, nothing, just… same ol' same ol'…." I suddenly felt very, I guess you could say, uncomfortable in my own skin.

I stared at the ground, not even aware of how I was trying to avoid looking at a certain pair of anxious cobalt eyes.

…But I didn't want Miley to catch on to my sudden feelings of uneasiness, so I cleared my throat and asked her, "But how was the tour??" a little more excitedly than I wanted to.

"Oh, it was really fun! But, I don't know, everyone missed Lola. But, hey, you should come to the shows in November, most of them aren't on school nights and the ride wouldn't be long…"

I grinned. "Okay, Lola's in."

She started telling me funny stories about the hotel room, and something about the dancers I laughed at, but all the while I stared at the ground. I probably looked upset. I knew she could tell, she kept making pauses where I could feel her eyes on me, where I was on fire. All of me; I felt so hot, like I was about to break into a sweat, like I was a convict under question; as if I were nervous, or something…

Miley's my best friend, what is there to be _nervous_ about?

I sobered up with a blink, and finally looked at her face as she talked. I swear I saw her jump.

She still looked the same. She was chuckling while talking, so I laughed a little too, but continued to study her face.

Of course I've seen Miley's face, but I've never really _looked _atit. I never noticed the light freckles on her cheeks and on the bridge of her nose; the way she wrinkled her nose when she lost track of what she was saying; her long, golden lashes; how white her teeth looked behind her pomegranate colored lips—which are gorgeous, no wonder they call Hannah 'Angelina Duff'—how she looked between the driveway in front of us, her fingernails, and back to my inattentive face.

"So, Lils, you ready for tomorrow?"

I gazed at her lips while they shaped the words. All I could think of was strawberries, apples, and peaches, and I looked up at the pretty sky and back to Miley and said, "Uhh… tomorrow?"

Oh. Crap.

"School? Wow, earth to Lillian, did you seriously forget? Or are you just spacin' on me?"

"Well, uh, er—both. Spacing. I don't know." I kept my eyes on the sky. She kept her narrowed eyes on me.

I'm sure the heat from my blush was cancelling out the wind trying to cool me down.

"Okayyy… Well, I think I'm gonna go inside and get ready for the first day of 10th grade, so… G'night Lils."

She stood up. I did too, after a delayed moment.

Before she turned around I wrapped my arms around her neck, and this time she really did jump. I stood there for a few seconds and mumbled "Bye…" and turned around and walked home.

I could feel her staring after me, probably with that dumbfounded, confused look.

I was pretty sure my knees were gonna give if these damn butterflies got any stronger.

-

I can't sleep.

My clothes are all out, my books are sitting in my new tan messenger bag, and it's not that I can't sleep because of school, which I honestly couldn't give a shit about this time around, but it's Miley.

Miley, Miley, Miley.

Why did I act like that today? Why did my heart race? Why did my stomach clench like that?

Why, why, why?

I thought about everything I saw of her. Her eyes, her smile. I pictured her walking towards me, giving me a hug, her feelings raw and open on her chest and lips.

Why was I so… out of it? Why was I so nervous? I couldn't even look her in the eye; my own best friend.

I twisted over in my sheets, which were tied around my legs. The idea to text her came to mind, but I suppressed it; I needed to calm down.

I looked over at the clock: 3:14 a.m. I was waking up at 6:15 a.m.

I just want to go to sleep, I really do. I'm just going to say it was all because I hadn't seen her for a little while; I forgot how to act.

I pictured carving through the living cobalt blue waters of the ocean; I was falling asleep.

-

Back to Seaview High. Can't believe I'm here already. It feels like I just woke up, I was just hopping into my jeans up in my nice, cozy bedroom, and I blinked and I'm here, walking through this yellow, blue, purple school.

Oliver was talking about his end-of-summer blowout bonfire last night, I was trying not to laugh because all the little freshman were trying to look so confident but I knew, of course, how they were really feeling inside, my button down henley was getting on my nerves, Miley is observing the little freshman with a small, pretty smile, I think my hair is frizzing up, it's really hot in this damn school, and I just want to go home.

I looked at Miley, to my left, ignoring Oliver to my right, as we navigated to the sophomore hall.

Her outfit was really cute; I was actually a little jealous. I couldn't stop looking at it. It was just a cream white colored baby doll, with this gray, cable knit, quarter-sleeved, half-length cardigan over it, light-wash skinny jeans, white flip flops, and a cherry wood bead necklace and matching bracelet, as well as a white rope bracelet paired with the wooden bead one. It was very casual compared to some of her other outfits; but I loved it.

It made her look sophisticated… and sweet. And it all tied so well together.

"Your outfit's really cute, Miles," I said, over Oliver. It was probably the first full sentence I've said to her since yesterday.

The warm, color-bled sky from yesterday popped up behind my eyes, and I remembered how awkward me and Miles' little reunion yesterday evening was. I suppressed a cringe.

"Thanks, Lils!" she said, probably happy I was back to normal.

Hah.

-

I studied the table on the sheet of already wrinkled paper in my hands:

HOUR SUBJECT TEACHER ROOM

HOM E - Davids J103

1 Government CP Nevelle A214

2 Algebra II G Davids J103

3 Gym/Health (qt.1) Chylsloky GYM

4 French II CP Basset F111

5 Lunch - CAFE

6 English II H Allera J107

7 Journalism II H Wallins D203

8 Chemistry G Black J101

I have more than half my day with Miley: Homeroom, Government, Gym, French Lunch, and Chemistry. I have less than half with Oliver: Government, Gym, and Lunch.

I beamed happily as Oliver was talking about his fail-proof plan to get himself a girl this year; I was delighted Miley and Oliver were in some of my classes.

I think I might just be able to survive Seaview this year.

-

I'm aware Mrs. Nevelle is a cranky, fat, bitch who can't live without a Hot Pocket every period, and even though it's the first day of school her room smells like burnt Lunchables—plastic and all.

I already hate her, and tune her out the second she opens her huge, gobbly mouth.

She was working on seating us in alphabetical order. I would sit right behind Miley, thank god. It would be easier to pass notes this way.

I watched as the class was assigned seats, one-by-one, including Oliver, who was positioned dead front-and-center, unfortunately for him.

"Truscott, Lillian?" Mrs. Nevelle spat, snapping her weird little metal on my new seat.

"Mm," was my response as I sat, kicking my feet up on the book rack under the desk in front of me, and relaxing.

But she snapped the little pointer thing on my desk again. "We don't put our feet up on other people's furniture, do we, Lillian?"

I resisting the most amazing urge to roll my eyes as Mrs. Nevelle's beady little eyes peered down upon me, and set my flip-flop clad feet on the ground.

"And let's cooperate with a smile, Truscott; let's try to start this year off with a smile, why don't we?"

I tightened my lips and nodded vaguely, looking up into her eyes.

I hate you, my eyes said.

I hate you more, hers replied.

"Stewart, Miley?"

"Right here!" Miley called sweetly in her southern drawl.

Why is she always so sweet to anyone a day older than her? Those southerns and their politeness, I swear.

"Ah, Miss Stewart, heard _wonderful_ things about you." That wasn't even a complete sentence, dumbass.

"Hope I can live up to 'em," Miley grinned.

I looked around the room as Miley crossed it…. And at most of my male classmates' eyes rolled downwards, all at Miley as she walked, like very reactant magnets. Very strong magnets.

The urge I had to shout, 'Um, yes, can we all please keep it in our pants, please?' was even stronger than my previous one to roll my eyes all the way into the back of my head only seconds ago. I was actually impressed with myself with repressing this one.

I scanned her outfit once again as she approached her seat, admiring/envying it, but then her perfectly straight, crisp schedule slipped off its place on top of her notebook, and fluttered to the floor.

I looked at the paper on the floor… then to the hand reaching for it… up the half-naked, tanned forearm of that hand… across the gray, knit clad shoulder of that arm… along the smooth, bare collar bone operating that shoulder….

And somehow my eyes happened to jump to the attractive valley separating her breasts, and I swallowed really loud, and really hard, and couldn't look away, and god, how long does it take someone to pick up a stupid sheet that was their schedule off the ground? Jesus Christ, it just got waaay too hot it here…

I had the strongest urge to do something, but I don't know what the hell it was. My gut was now twisting, not even housing innocent little butterflies anymore, but something much stronger, while a little below that was simply throbbing, everywhere, and I squeezed my legs and eyes together, against the rush of my hammering heart.

I was still gazing down her shirt when I opened my eyes and she stood back up, but then I was just looked at her breasts and even though Miley didn't have the biggest boobs, her cleavage was just… well, there had to be something about it that made me want to do something so badly, and yet I didn't even know what that something _was_.

That wasn't just the strongest urge I had all period to do any type of action; it was the strongest urge I've ever had to do _anything_. And to be honest, it scared me even more than the brown moles protruding off of Mrs. Nevelle's neck.

-

The day passed real fast, since it was only a half day, but still, it was pretty long. Even though I was good as far as people in my classes, I still don't like school. At all.

Another thing I don't like is the headache I've had all day from checking out Miley… All day.

I now understand why all the boys always stare her down and mutter to each other when she walks by, like some kind of chain reaction. She walks by, the male population reacts.

I've never told anyone this, but I used to be jealous of Miley and all the attention she gets from guys. But, to be honest, I'm just not into that whole, see a guy in school, get his number, text him for a week, go to the movies and suck his face off routine.

No, in fact, I've done that once and it was the worst experience of my life. Never again.

Yeah, I'd rather do it the old fashion way. Form a platonic relationship before I do anything else, at least.

And all these guys are stupid; they don't realize Miley's not like that. In fact, Miley's only hooked up with someone once, and that was Jake Ryan. Who I coincidentally hate, almost as much as school, but not as much as Mrs. Nevelle (or Ms. Chylsloky, the gym Nazi, fitting name since she's this huuuge German chick). I can't believe she actually fell for him.

I can't believe I was attracted to him—slightly—before I figured out how retarded he was. Still, I didn't keep it up with him to the point where he put his tongue in my mouth.

Whatever, people make mistakes.

I laid on the couch, watching TRL, thinking about all this. The Tylenol still wasn't working… Ugh.

They were showing another trailer for that vampire movie. I watched as the two main characters spoke with their mouths inches apart, partaking in a very intense conversation, it seemed.

That story was about true love. I read the book…

I narrowed my eyes unconsciously and watched intently.

Their lips; their closeness; their intensity… I brushed my fingers along my own lips lightly and felt them ache and tickle.

I remembered… laying there, in the sand, in the dark, with that feeling behind my lips, that feeling that made me want to scream, even though it felt so good.

And all in one moment I realized—I didn't really think about the Accident much after it happened—that it was Miley who gave me that feeling.

I pictured, vividly, how it must have looked to, maybe, Oliver, watching Miley perform CPR on my stupid, stupid, knocked out self. I imagined Miley lowering down, closer, closer, and I imitated the vaguely soft, solemn, burning feeling her lips planted on mine…

And I replayed this in my mind's eye, over, and over, and over again, until my skin was hot and I drifted to sleep.

-

I was in first period, already the next day, studying the back of Miley's chocolate-colored hair, and the way her slim upper arm was angled as her elbow was propped on the desk while she jotted notes.

My paper was as blank as my expression, but my mind was racing like my mom in the shoulder lane on an unmonitored backed-up express way (she's an aggressive driver).

The second I saw Miley this morning, I smiled without even noticing. The second Miley saw me this morning, my stomach tightened. The second Miley spoke this morning, my heart raced. The second Miley put her hand on my arm this morning, my breathing stopped.

I'm not stupid, just lazy.

And I'm sitting down and I'm realizing that these thoughts, these feelings about Miley, well… Let's just say I'm pretty sure not every girl has them towards her best friend.

And it's a good thing I'm sitting down because I'm scared shitless.

'_I'm finally waking up, a twist in my story_

_It's time I open up and let your love right through me'_

_-"A Twist In My Story," Secondhand Serenade_

-

Two _chapters in the same week? That's a first. (and a last:P)_

_So obviously this chapter was pretty important; finally something happens. But idk, I hope I'm not rushing Lilly's feelings... I know there are a few grammar mistakes and stuff; they're done on purpose. Even though Lilly's supposed to be efficient with her English skills (look at her schedule), it's not like she proof-reads her own thoughts._

_Anyway, try to pay attention to Lilly's schedule because some parts of the next few chapters take place in her classes. If you don't understand anything on there, just ask about it._

_So, I'm satisfied with this chapter. Tell me what you think; any suggestions, anything you really liked/hated, something you wanna see, any predictions you wanna call out:D_

_Au revior! (I like French:D)_


	4. About A Girl

Hey, everyone. Sorry for the slight wait. I had a little writers block.

I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter.

Four – About A Girl

'_One song_

_About a girl_

_Can't breathe when I'm around her…'_

September melted away, and in town away from the beach the green leaves of the trees were beginning to paint themselves vivid, fiery colors.

And while that was going on, things between Miley and I began to change. Mostly just on my part.

Okay, all on my part.

From the moment I realized how attractive I found my best friend to be, I found myself starting to do all these weird things.

First of all, I was completely devoted to her. The second she would text or call me, my organs would jump a foot inside me, and I'd grin and put down whatever I was doing, and listen to every syllable she had to say. When she IMed me, I basically ignored anyone else I was talking to and gazed at every word she sent.

If we were engaging in any non-oral communication like texting or IMing, I would be reading her words over and over and over. At first I only did it a little bit. I would just want to be sure I caught everything she said, so I could keep our conversation up and find something especially impressive to say. But then… I would just read the same thing over and over, trying to search for something in them, some hidden meaning…

Kind of like the things I've been saying had. I gave her all these sincere, dead-serious compliments whenever she told me she was feeling like shit. And they would make her smile and blush, which made me smile and blush. Thank god she's never seen that. And whenever she would compliment me, like tell me that my new jeans I didn't even tell her I bought look really nice, or anything like that, made me grow warm, inside and out. I love it when she notices me.

Another thing, I always think about her. When I'm with her, I try to take mental snapshots of her to think about later. Even if I tried to think about something else, like skating or guys or clothes or some assignment I had to do, I couldn't do it. I was almost incapable of it. I'd stray off and think of her in between. Her smile, her laugh, what she wore that day, what she'd say to me; anything and everything.

It's probably the worst thing I've ever experienced. I don't even know what to call it. It's pathetic, despicable, _horrifying_… I just wish I had never even gone surfing that one day; that day I always think about where those lips were actually on mine.

I don't know why any of this is happening. I thought humans had control of themselves, and could choose what to think about and what not to think about, or what to look at or what not to look at.

I guess not.

-

It was first period and I could feel my heart sink all over again. The empty seat in front of me reminded me how Miley didn't come to school today. She didn't even text me to let me know.

Mrs. Nevelle was talking, I was ignoring her. We had this mutual knowledge of cooperation with each other; she lectures, I sit there not hearing a word. If she decides to acknowledge me and try to be a smartass, I show her what a smartass really is. And on those occasions, spend the rest of the period in the principal's office. But it's impossible for me to fail, because Miley always bombards me with the notes and assignment I missed.

She's too good to me.

And thinking of her pushed another sad sigh out of me.

I looked around at everyone taking notes, rolled my eyes, and decided to open my red notebook and did so too, for the first time all year. Miley would need them.

At one point when I glanced up at Nevelle, I saw her looking back at me with surprised eyes, then an ugly, malicious little grin.

_Shut u_p, I told her silently, _I'm just doing it for Miley._

_Yeah, I know_, she replied. _That's why it's so amusing_.

The smile was still on her face when I looked back at the paper.

Bitch.

-

There's something about looking into Oliver's eyes that makes me feel at home. When we were younger, but older-younger, I thought I just had a big crush on him. Honestly, I never thought about what I _really_ feel for Oliver.

We were sitting at lunch with the guys, where we always sit, although Miley's seat was empty.

Oliver was telling some story, and I was trying to look at him the way I looked at Miley the day before school on her porch.

I saw his milk chocolate eyes beneath his dark chocolate hair, and his warm, boyish smile, before anything else on his pointed, triangular face.

But I wasn't entranced by his face the way I was Miley's. My observations of Oliver were much more… factual. I had a sense of something being wrong as I noted that, but didn't pause to look into it.

I always thought I was supposed to like Oliver. We got along so well, and always have. It's not like he's butt ugly or anything. I always adored his smile and hair, and don't really understand why girls reject him so often.

Friend wise, whenever I needed someone, Oliver was always there for me, always tied his long arms around me and gave me his slim, tall torso to attach myself to, and a shoulder to soak with tears on one or two occasions; before Miley, that is. But still, Oliver is there for comfort the very rare moments I ever need it. He is my number one confidant, and even though he isn't too observant, we've been together for so long he knows everything about me from what family member I get whichever of my features from, to my favorite ice cream. He's my oldest, greatest friend.

I looked out the window, high on the cafeteria wall, popping some more chips into my mouth.

The sun was shining through, landing on certain tables; including ours. I looked back to Oliver, completely enveloped in the light. It made his teeth poking out a little from behind his smiling, open lips stand out.

"…And I was like, 'yeah, you can ride the Ollie Trollie aaall night…'" I caught him say when I snapped out of my thoughts. He then proceeded to make a vulgar thrusting motion with his hips.

I giggled lightly as the entire table of guys erupted in howls of laughter.

Well, at least now I understand why he can't get a girl.

-

"Was that text from Miley?"

My light-speed heartbeat became background noise to Oliver's voice. It was the end of the day, and we were walking out of school.

"Uh huh," I answered, fingers zipping around my phone's keypad to answer her. I didn't focus on how pathetic it was I read her text over 13 times so I didn't answer in the same minute she sent the text.

_Hey:D how was your day?_ I read it over incase it wasn't completely normal or error-less, and sent it.

I felt someone watching me, and looked over at Oliver to see him staring at me with narrowed eye and a suspicious frown.

"What?" The smile on my face I didn't even remember appearing faded.

"Why are you… why were you smiling like that? That wasn't really Miley, was it?"

I hesitated to answer. What did he mean? "What do you mean? Of course it was Miley."

He stared into my eyes for a few more seconds. "Oh."

What the hell? "What are you talking about? Smiling like what?"

Oliver sighed. I was very intrigued to see what he was going to say. "You have this _love sick_ smile on your face, I just thought it was some new guy you're crushing on or something..."

My mouth opened, and I looked away instantly. _What?_

"Really? That's, uh, that's weird. No, she was just telling me this funny joke…"

"Oh," Oliver smiled. All the tension that was buzzing between his eyes and my nervous face melted. "What was it?"

God, Ollie, you're killin' me here. "It was, the, uh, Micheal Jackson one, I don't know, I kind of forget."

There was an awkward second of silence, where it seemed like his suspicions seemed to rise, but I said, "Ahaha, hey, did you see Nevelle's shirt today? She looked like an _actual_ cow!" and he laughed his boyish laugh and it was all good.

Still, something inside me twisted a strange way from the way it has been lately. A scared way. _Lovesick_?

-

Oliver and I got to the corner where me, him, and Miley always part right (me), left (him), and straight (Miley) to our houses.

I crossed the street and continued on the sidewalk to my right, looking back over my shoulder to see whether or not Oliver had made the left around the next corner, yet. I kept walking until he did, then sprinted quickly back to the corner and up Miley's street.

I had to bring Miley her homework, after all.

Although, the butterflies in my tummy were not because of the fact she said no word of that homework when she invited me, but not Oliver, over. She gave no details towards the part about not inviting Oliver, either. The butterflies were also not because of that.

I walked up the street and around some corners and down some more, until I could finally smell the sea and faintly hear the waves. Just faintly.

I felt like I was a seven-year-old arriving at Toys R Us when I stepped up on Miley's porch, knocking on the door. I don't barge in anymore. I realized it isn't polite.

I re-gripped my bag on my shoulder, and my phone buzzed.

_jus come in silly:P_

My hand was tight around the door knob, and I was suddenly extremely nervous. I almost began sweating.

The door swung open to the familiar insides of Miley's house; the wooden floor boards, the olive green couch in the middle of the sunken in portion of the living room, the snack bar straight ahead on the higher level, and the piano on the right.

I heard Miley call, "I'm up here, Lils!" down the steps, which were down the little hall in the far right corner, and felt a slight sensation of tingles up my spine.

I needed to calm down. I walked over to the snack bar and tossed my back pack on a chair, then walked around to the fridge.

A few minutes later and Miley yelling down two more times, I got myself some brownies and a glass of milk and quickly made my way upstairs.

As I reached her door, I heard it swing open, and looked up from my glass I was trying very hard not to spill the contents of.

I swallowed. In the glimpse I caught of her, she was wearing a tight cami that showed a thick strip of stomach, and baggy sweats hung low, her hair tied into a cute, low, messy bun and she wasn't smiling, nor frowning, but glowing.

I heard her collapse on her bed, and sigh. I entered the room, keeping my eyes on the floor, and set my plate and glass on her night table.

I finally looked down at her on the bed; one knee up, the crease the muscles bordering her hips completely visible, the valleys of her abs lined by the cotton of her shirt, her bare chest rising and falling peacefully.

Holy shit. Why?

I couldn't take my eyes off her. I didn't realize I stopped breathing.

"Lilly, I know the brownies are pretty, but could you please speak?"

I made a strangled, choking sound, caused by my spit flowing into my trachea, and began laughing and fell across the bed.

I could feel her smooth stomach rub along my arm, as she giggled too. "You're so weird, why did I invite you here…"

I flipped around onto my side, still across her abdomen. My shirt rode up just a little bit, and when I felt her warm skin on mine, my insides twisted, in the way I was starting to get _really_ used to.

Just like that.

I told myself it was just because of the skin-on-skin contact. Not because of whom the skin belonged to.

"Because…" a flirty smile appeared, I felt it on my face, "You love me."

"True." My heart raced. "Now get off." It still raced.

I climbed off, and sat next to my brownies. I pulled the plate onto my lap and dug in.

"So," I said once I swallowed, "are you _really_ sick?" I usually would have just talked with my food in my mouth.

"No, but apparently I got the runs."

"What do you mean apparently?"

Miley snickered. "That's what I told Daddy. Hey, I needed some extra time on that essay, I don't just spit the A's out. They take time and thought."

I took another small, dainty bite. And swallowed again. "Wow, Miley Stewart actually _lying_?" I poked her in the stomach. I felt my face heat up. "That's not a good moral for all the kids of America, Ms. Montana."

"Mm, well, nobody's perfect." She flashed me a grin and looked me in the eyes.

"You live and you learn it," I sighed.

She giggled again. God, why is she so _perfect_?

We watched TV for a while, and talked until all the brownies but the last were gone. I was a little disappointed at how calm she seemed and what a wreck I was. I was flat out astonished at how she didn't notice it.

"Hey," she said, reaching over me. My breathing deepened sensually as I felt her front mash against my side. "That one's mine," she whispered, hot against my ear. I shivered. I wanted to… I wanted to moan.

I let her grab the brownie and I was still frozen in the same, erratic-breathing state she put me in, and then I realized how wrong this was.

I glanced at her clock; 3: 47, and made up a lie. "Oh, crap, it's almost four, I gotta head home, see ya Miles!"

I jumped out of her bed, bounded down the steps, snatched my bag from the barstool, threw it over my shoulder and dashed out of the house. I didn't even leave her the homework.

-

I could barely get my key in the door, I was so shaken up, but I eventually succeeded, and shut it and leaned back against it once I was inside.

"Hey, honey!" I heard my mom call from upstairs.

"He-ey, mom…" I shouted back half-heartedly.

I slid down and threw my face into my hands. My heart was still beating madly, and I know it wasn't just because of how I ran all the way here.

Lovesick?

'_I'm not gonna waste these words_

_About a girl…_

"_About a Girl" – The Academy Is…'_

Please, please, pleeeaseee send a review and tell me what you think. I really want to know. Next chapter will be up soon, and it'll be long, I promise.


	5. Dakota

Hey, thanks to everyone reading. I hope you like this chapter.

I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter.

Five – Dakota

'_She knows exactly what to do_

_Whenever I'm alone with her_

_I can barely make a move_

_By the time she opens up her eyes…'_

Everything is some form of black inside the tired limo. There is a vague blur of random neon colored lights out the window. I yawn, and wince at the taste in my mouth, and there is a heavy weight on my shoulder, and when I realize its Hannah's head, I almost jump through the sun roof.

If I thought things were bad before concerning Miley Stewart/Hannah Montana, it's nothing compared to how they are now.

When I looked at Miley before, I remember how it used to make me feel all weightless and the way I would be so intrigued. At first, I was astonished at how pretty she was, and to be honest, I still can't get over it. But now…

But when I look at Miley now, or hear her voice, or feel her skin on mine, I feel all the air in me slowly… leak away….

..and then the first breath I take in is like… bliss. This feeling; when my stomach twists and I have a stupid, goofy grin on my face, which appears when Miley is even just in the same room as I am… I just, I feel so _good. _I feel like nothing can ruin the moment; even if its raining outside, even if I'm having a shitty day, even if a tornado is spinning towards me… When I see that girl, when she sees me, I feel a happiness I never knew I could feel.

I stared down at Miley's blonde alter ego. She had one hand tangled in her lap, and the other one tossed across mine. Her chest rose and fell in slow motion… The sound of her spacey breathing almost lulled me back to sleep.

I don't take my eyes off her. All I could hear was the faint sound of the wind rushing past outside, but that was background noise to the silence and the breathing.

I looked at her hands. I knew they're soft, and I suddenly recognized a feeling in me I get when I go in the freezer and see a petite little carton of double chocolate brownie Dove sitting there, and I want it _so _badly, but I'm on a diet (for the week).

I realized I craved to hold her hand.

She was sleeping, she would never know.

I could say there was a smudge of ink from the signings on her hand or something.

I stared unblinkingly at her long fingers. An image of her scribbling notes in class with her purple pen comes to mind and I realized how warm her body feels against mine; but not the uncomfortable warmth, more like a human blanket.

My throat clicked with a gulp and my hand between us twitched to life and slid down my own thigh. I was scared, but I closed my eyes and felt two fingers push into my palm as my own wrapped around them.

Until then, every hand I've ever held was just a hand. Skin and bones and sweat.

I was trying to slip my fingers through the rest of hers when I felt her stir. And mumble. She was waking up. I froze, my head throbbing in alarm.

I ripped my hand from hers and looked out the window like nothing happened.

-

It's a gray, chilly morning. The waves are dark and flat.

I sigh, and tug at the neck of my wetsuit. I need a new one; this one is getting small. Then again, flaunting it in front of Miley could be fun.

God, _what_ did I just think? She doesn't look at me like that, I—

"Lilly, we've been waiting for half an hour, there are _no_ waves today."

I'm the one that looks at her like that. Honestly, this whole Miley thing has been getting out of control. I'm losing sleep, and it's starting to get extremely awkward between us, and—

"So…"

And if I keep staring at her in all her gorgeous glory for any longer, no, if she catches me one more time, I think—

"We should just go home…"

I think she'll figure it out.

Well.

Then again, what is there to figure out? It's not like I—

"Lilly?"

It's not like I _like_ her. She's a girl. I'm not gay. It's normal for people to feel an _attraction_ towards someone of the same sex when they're going through puberty or whatever. An attraction. Nothing more. It's normal. And, it's just what I'm experiencing.

"Lilly!"

I turned to Oliver. His hair was still dry, and swayed off his smooth face slightly as the breeze blew. "What?"

His entire face scrunched up angrily as he sighed. "Okay, right here, right now, you are going to tell me what the hell has been going on with you. You've been totally out of it for, like, the past two months, and if you don't tell me what's wrong with you, I'm going to put all those pictures of you from the Halloween party on Myspace and you're going to regret it."

I stared at him, and winced, mouth hanging open like an idiot, and suddenly I felt very panicky. Those pictures were pretty bad; indescribably bad. He would really put them up, too…

For a second, I considered actually telling him what I've been thinking towards Miley. But, I just, I wouldn't, how… how could I even tell Oliver if I could barely tell myself?

I've been thinking the thoughts, but I'm too much of a wimp to actually turn around and think about what they actually mean. I just wave it off and say it'll be over with soon. I just tell myself it's nothing, when deep, deep down, I know it has to be something or else it would have gone away by now.

It has to be something, because I've never felt this way about anyone before.

"Lilly?" He said softly, almost in a whisper.

I looked at him and right up into his sepia colored eyes. Concerned. Reliable. That's Oliver. He's always been there for me; even when Miley came along and I somewhat… outgrew the need for his comfort and instead turned to hers. Oliver would always be there for me. And with this problem, he still would be… But for the first time, I'm not sure if Miley would, if I actually did decide to confide in one of them.

I had to say something. I've been quiet for too long. "Well…"

He bowed his head a bit, inclining for me to go on.

"Well, look, first of all… Could you please, _please_… not tell anyone about this? Not even Miley?" The way I even said her name could have given it all away.

"I swear, I never will," Oliver said so solemnly I could have hugged him just for the sense of security it filled me with.

"Okay, well," I took a deep breath. "I feel really…attracted.. to—well, uh, someone," I chose the words as they've been coming to my mind for the past two months, "And… it's really confusing me. Just, the way…"

Oh god, why did I even start talking? Why did I even begin to try and explain? Why did I even let Oliver know there was something up? I could have kept this all a damn secret and no one ever had to know. It can get to Miley now. How mortifying would that be? What would really happen if Miley ever found out I.. I… "The way they do… everything—well, let's just say…" He's gonna catch on to the fact that it's a girl, the way I won't say 'he'. Jesus, why did I even decide to say anything? Stupid, stupid, stupid… "Let's just say that I'm… I'm really confused."

Oliver stared at me blankly. "Oh, I knew this was over some guy. What did Miley say about this?"

…Oh my god. It's not about a guy, Oliver! I should just say that. He said he wouldn't tell.

"Miley doesn't know…" I told him slowly.

"Well, why don't you tell her? She could help you out with it better than I could. I'm a little better equipped when it comes to the ladies."

I could have said, 'Yeah, she could,' or, 'Yeah, you're right Ollie, thanks, I'll go do that.'

But, no. No. I say:

"Well…"

Oliver stared at me, still blankly, but in a, the-cogs-in-my-head-are-turning-and-I'm-actually-picking-up-on-what-you're-saying, way; which scared me. I forgot how intuitive and observant Oliver could occasionally be.

"Lilly… are you trying to say it's about…"

I gulped, and stared raw into his eyes. It was just us and the waves.

"A girl?"

I broke our stare and looked out into the horizon. Shades of grey, as far as the eye could see.

But Oliver was still. I heard some water slosh, but he didn't move.

I felt something warm on top of my hand. I looked down to see it was his.

"Look, Lils… don't worry about it. I'm here for you. And there's nothing wrong with this. Whoever she is, she would probably still be your friend even though you like her."

I smiled. A large, toothy smile, which I loved feeling split my mouth in half.

But then I felt like a wrecking ball slammed into my stomach. "No, I don't _like_ her," I corrected, "I'm just attracted to her."

Oliver laughed. I was slightly offended. "Oh… Right, my bad."

It didn't sound like he completely meant the apology. But I let him slide. My smile reappeared.

We agreed there was no point in wasting our time here today, and it was about to storm anyway, so we left.

As I was walking home, surfboard under my arm, I felt lighter; as if something had been riding on my back for the longest time and finally decided to jump off.

I think I knew what—or who—it was.

-

A week passed since I confessed to Oliver. He's been extra sensitive towards me; always asking if I'm okay and when no one else is around, how things are going with 'her'. He has no idea who she is. And I supposed I'd tell him when it was all over with.

But it just wasn't ending. My feelings and thoughts for Miley still weren't fading; in fact, it was all getting worse. If it got any more serious, I think I'd have a heart attack from all the stress that poor muscle has been going through.

My heart jumped (that heart attack, I can almost see it). Someone was opening the door to class. Maybe it was Miley, she was coming late today, she texted me, and I've been waiting to see her all day.

I looked up from my French work to see, much to my pleasure, Miley walk in and smile at me and I looked down at my chest to see it physically jittering from my pounding heart.

I stayed hovering over my desk in a very unladylike posture, which I straightened quickly, gazing at Miley Stewart and how perfectly pretty see looked.

Her hair was straightened, instead of being wavy as usual, and her thin bangs hung lightly down her forehead into her eyes, and she wore a kelly green PINK hoodie and jeans and I stared at her until she sat in her seat and put down her bag and got out her French notebook and turned around to me.

"Bonjour, Lill-i_an_," She said to me in a fake French accent and giggled.

I gazed at her in amazement; I think a couple other people were too.

But she was looking at me. Me and only me. Because she's _my_ best friend and not theirs and it just felt so good to call her mine. Again, I had that strange sense of not knowing why but not exactly jumping to look into it.

Okay, you know what? Why don't I just face it?

If this was a boy, I'd easily admit that I…

Liked him.

And Miley's not a boy, but… If I want to call her mine, and if she's the last thing I think about at night and the first thing that pops into my head when I wake up… If I think she's the most beautiful, sweetest thing in the world, no competition, although I surely haven't seen every person in the world, but I don't _need_ to… If I unconditionally wait on her hand and foot, and do everything she says, and answer her in a heartbeat whenever she calls… If I have this feeling, of happiness and contentment and sometimes arousal which reach levels I never even knew existed whenever I touch her, or see her, or hear her…

I must like her.

"Hey, what's up with you? You're barely talking, and you have this… look on you're face… like you're _sick_ or something."

I chuckled to myself. Yeah, I actually did feel a little sick.

Lovesick.

I laughed. "No, I'm fine, Miles."

-

It was a gorgeous day; the type where it's not exactly warm, but it's not cold either, and there was the occasional breeze. Well, the weather is always like that during the middle of December here in Malibu, but today is especially beautiful.

I was walking beside Miley, we were right outside the skating rink.

About an hour ago, we were sitting on her couch, bored as hell, watching some figure skating competition, when she said, "God, how do they do that? I might be Hannah Montana but I sure as heck ain't dancin' on no ice. In fact, I don't think I've ever even tried…"

And, of course, since I am the biggest overly-excited retard who takes every opportunity available to pursue in any activity that may lead to flirting with Miley, I said, "Okay, well, let's change that and go ice skating."

"Lilly, no, really, I couldn't—"

"Come onnn, my treat," (insert cheesy, try-to-be-but-failing flirtatious grin here).

"Um… uh… Promise you won't, like, laugh, or… push me down…"

"Miley! Would I ever do that to _you_?" God I am so pathetic.

"Err, well…"

"Okay, don't answer that. Let's go! Mr. S, to the ice skating rink please?"

Two defiant groans and one triumphant smile later, here we are.

"Size eight and nine and a half, please," I said to the boy at the counter, who just stared at Miley, who then turned to me and gave a small, "Yuck," when he turned to retrieve our skates.

"What, not your type?" I joked. The kid was butt ugly—greasy, jet black hair, huge nose, furry upper lip, acne everywhere.

"Ha. No, Lillian, ugly is not my type."

"Miley, that's so mean!" But I couldn't help but laugh. And grinned while I got the idea to say: "So, I guess I still qualify, then."

I don't know what makes me say these corny, ridiculously obvious lines; well, that's a lie, I'm pretty aware of what it is. It's not like Miley knows how truthful these things I say are. And she would never suspect. I know it's sick how much I take advantage of that, and I know how pathetic it is how my heart soared when she said, "Yes, Lillian, you do," even though she laughed. I know that I like her; I guess I'm just curious to see if I could ever have her.

And it's hot when she full names me. Even if it's only the first name.

We went over to the metal benches to lace up our skates. Mine were all knotted and unlaced, and Miley finished with hers before me.

"Here, lemme help," she said.

She kneeled down over my skate and went to work, and I'm not gonna lie and say I'm not ashamed, but she was wearing this a_dor_able navy blue cable-knit sweater and it was only natural for my eyes to zip all over the deepest point of that v-neck.

So of course, even though it was chilly in here, I felt my cheeks burn up and I could feel the heat radiating off my body inside my hoodie, and I imagined how satisfying it would be to just drag her to the bathroom and—

"'Kay, there."

I ripped my eyes away from her chest and blushed harder. God, I'm so disgusting…

Miley stood, trying to figure out how to balance on the skates and I couldn't help but snicker.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"Okay, but I'm not laughing, I'm snickering."

She glowered at me from under her bangs.

"I'll stop. Here, don't lean outwards," I put my hands to her elbows, silently grateful at the small moment of contact, and steadied her as she tried to balance. "Got it? Try to stand like that when we actually get on the ice," I grinned. She gave me another glare. I wonder if she really doesn't want to be here and I suddenly feel a pang of remorse in the pit of my stomach.

"I think I can do it myself, Lillian," She said in an airy, facetious tone.

"Oookay, if you insist…"

I left her and started towards the entrance to the rink and stepped onto the ice. There were literally three other people here. I glided out into the middle of the rink, as she timidly entered and clung relentlessly to the barrier.

I followed her as she wobbled her way around, and suppressed the urge to crack up.

This girl is Hannah Montana; fierce, fearless, confident to boot, and just thinking about how out of place she looks right now makes my lips tremble from having to hold back the laughter.

She suddenly slipped and of course I nearly dived onto the ground to break her fall, but managed to stay on my feet and catch her from the side.

Now I actually did laugh.

"Ugh, shut up," She groaned, but while grinning and hitting me on the shoulder.

I tried to calm down, and caught a quick glimpse of her, with her rosy cheeks and white smile, as she laughed a little too. Jeez, she's so pretty.

My eyes fall on her lips and I remember how I held her hand in the limo on the way back from the Hannah concert the other night… and now I realize I really want to kiss her. Her lips are so… round, and smooth, and gorgeous. For a moment, I seriously think that I'll do it. I really began to lean down, and—

"Alright, show me," she sighed, brushing herself off like laying there in my arms made her old and dusty.

"I thought you could do it yourself," I retorted hotly. Ridiculously enough, I was extremely disappointed for a minute when I realized I wouldn't be kissing Miley anytime soon.

Ugh, I need to stop. I can't even ice skate with her without driving myself up the wall.

"Well… I was wrong. Help me."

I couldn't really resist the look she put on her face, even though she was only joking. I stopped thinking about kissing her, and focused on trying to keep this platonic.

"Okay, well, first, you need to get off the wall."

"Um… no."

"Yes, Miley, you need to get off the wall."

"Fine, fine, okay."

She pushed off the wall and ended up skidding on her ass to the middle of the rink.

I turned around and laughed so she wouldn't see for a minute before rushing over to her.

"Look what you did," She pouted.

"I did nothing."

I held out my hand to her.

"Alright, now try to, um—" I froze up a little as she grabbed my hand, but caught myself, "try to put one foot in front of the other, and try to balance…" She still didn't let go even though she was standing. I looked down at our joined hands, bewildered.

"If I go down, I'm takin' you with me, bub."

I narrowed my eyes at her, "Then you won't be going down."

I was on a high as we slowly made our way around the rink. I felt like I was going to combust into giddy, nervous laughter more and more each minute. She glided along at one point, the ice giving her the momentum not to have to skate, a tip I gave her, and began swinging my arm back and forth, telling me how this was actually kind of fun.

By that point I was just proud of myself for having such a good idea.

-

We're in Miley's bed, watching Mean Girls even though we've seen it about three dozen times, and I really, really can't concentrate on the movie.

My mind won't stop alerting me how good Miley's hair smells, and how she's using _my _shoulder as a pillow, and how warm her breath is whenever she exhales through her nose all over my neck and _god_ I know I need to get a grip but I'm so turned on right now I literally can't even function.

This is bad, this is so bad. What do I do? It's not like I could make a move on her or anything, she'd freak out. Then again, would it be that bad to attempt to engage in some type of 'experimenting'? I should say something. Hey, Miles, have you ever thought of hooking up with a girl? Just for fun? It would be perfect. It would lead to so many things…

Of course, this led me to mentally picture all the activities the simple question could lead to.

But then I felt guilty for fantasizing about my best friend as she's right there, not to mention innocently cuddling with me, not suggesting anything, and of course she wasn't trying to get me all worked up like this but she did and I'm such an idiot.

I think seriously about putting on a whole show and trying to ask her to help me 'figure myself out'.

I know it's horrible to lie, and I do feel pretty shitty about considering this just because I'm very aroused right now, but god, she doesn't have to know. Everything will be fine as long as she doesn't know.

Well, wait.

She doesn't have a clue about my feelings for her. It doesn't take a lot for me to hide this secret. Miley doesn't know at all… so couldn't it be possible that maybe, just maybe, there's something _I_ don't know?

After all, Miley isn't all that affectionate with Oliver, compared to me. And he's a guy. He can be pretty sentimental sometimes too, if you really get into a deep conversation….

Yeah, nevermind. But still. Maybe, just maybe….

Maybe Miley likes me back!

Yeah, it totally makes sense! Grabbing my hand earlier today, always hinting back to me when I give her hints, always hitting me or holding onto me, the way she always smiles around me like how I always smile around her, and I've definitely caught her already looking at me when I go to look at her more than one time.

Alright, alright, I can't let her know I know. Although I could be wrong… but I really hope I'm not. I mean, it's just as possible she likes me back since I'm not supposed to be able to know, right?

There are a lot of things that I could ruin if Miley doesn't feel the same way. I want to make sure she likes me back, but without her catching on to what I'm trying to do…

God, I hate lying to her, but… I want her. I want to call her mine… I want to kiss her, like I wanted to earlier, all the time, whenever I want. I want to be able to gaze into her eyes and tell her everything. I don't _want _to lie to her, but then again, I didn't want to be attracted to her in the first place.

I shake my head.

Why, I silently inquired to no one in particular, why is this happening?

-

My palms were sweating as the buddy list was loading. Oliver would kill me for this, but… It's a chance I'm very willing to take.

**Smokenoaken15:** yoo

**mileybabyyxx: **heyy sup?

**Smokenoaken15: **nmu

**mileybabyyxx: **hair, tv, just chillin. jst got off the phone w lilly

That was true, I had to make sure she wasn't with Oliver or going to be with him.

**Smokenoaken15: **o cool

**mileybabyyxx: **yupp

I gulped out loud. I can't believe I was going to do this. I typed the next couple words out carefully, read them over about fifty times each, and shut my eyes as I pushed the Enter key.

**Smokenoaken15: **hey i hav a ?

I felt sick to my stomach as I waited for her reply.

**mileybabyyxx: **what is it?

I wasn't sure what question I wanted to ask. But when I decided, I didn't feel sick anymore; more like my stomach was jumping on a trampoline and wouldn't ever stop.

**Smokenoaken15: **wat exacly do u think of her?

Oh my god, could I be any more obvious?

**mileybabyyxx: **who?

Christ, Miles.

**Smokenoaken15: **lil

**mileybabyyxx: **ahaa why? something going on?

**Smokenoaken15: **idk jw

**mileybabyyxx: **lol no really what is it?

Shit. If I don't give her a good reason, she won't give me a good answer.

**Smokenoaken15: **well idk, a lot o gus think shes hot but i rely cant c it… lik its not that i think shes ugly, i just wouldn't get w her or nething.

**mileybabyyxx: **so youre saying you dont find her attractive..?

**Smokenoaken15: **no, i do… i just cant describe in wat way

**mileybabyyxx: **ohhh

Ugh, this is horrible. There's no way to get any answers.

**mileybabyyxx: **its probably cuz you guys are like brother & sister.

**Smokenoaken15: **yea… wud u say you guys are like sister n sister?

**mileybabyyxx: **deff:]. duh oll. &i see you like a bro too.

**Smokenoaken15: **soo.. u wouldn't b mad if i bet 60$ i cud get a tape of u guys makin out? lol

Ha. I'm a genius.

Wait. No, this is ridiculous… Christ, I don't want to make out with the girl on film, I just want to know if I have any chance with her! I'm so freaking stupid!

**Smokenoaken15: **jk jk lol

She didn't reply for a few seconds. A minute passed. Two minutes.

**Smokenoaken15:** …..? sry i didnt mean to piss u off

**mileybabyyxx: **sry hair. lol its cool you big donut.

Hm. Now what should I say? I don't want to say anything else stupid, but the job still isn't done.

**Smokenoaken15: **lik, idk, i think lils mad pretty and all… lik she has a nice face, body, n personalty but i couldn't see myself ever kissing her. its just bothering me, u kno?

**mileybabyyxx: **yeaa i know what you mean.

What? What does that mean?

**Smokenoaken15: **wut do you mean?

**mileybabyyxx: **like i just understand what your trying to say lol. of course lillys pretty, i mean we all know that's why a&a hate her so much. sometimes i get jelous, she barely has to do anything and she always looks fine.

Amber and Ashley hate me out of jealousy? Seriously? Damn, I never knew that! Miley Stewart gets jealous of _me_? Wow. This was a pretty good idea. I'm gonna feel a lot better walking through the halls of Seaview tomorrow, for sure.

Still, I was kind of disappointed. She hasn't really given any hints that she's attracted to me.

**mileybabyyxx: **aand yeaa no homo but hbib.

**Smokenoaken15: **wut?

**mileybabyyxx: **her body is bangin. lol i cant believe you hangout w my bonehead bro and dont know that one.

I giggled, giddy and senseless. I am definitely a genius. Oh my god, she thinks I'm hot. I couldn't wipe the grin off my face if it hurt, which it almost did.

**Smokenoaken15: **well thx now i feel smart. crap i g2g, ttyl. n thx!

**mileybabyyxx: **np, see ya tom:]

**Smokenoaken15 has signed off at 20:37:55.**

I signed off Oliver's screen name and smiled to myself. _'Her body is bangin'._'

I really hope Oliver never finds out about this.

I fixed my bed and slipped under the covers. I was comfortable and for once, for once in the past two months, it seemed I would get a full night's sleep.

And I did.

'_It's like I'm singin' karaoke_

_And I forgot the second verse…_

_But I can make up my own words'_

"_Dakota,"- A Rocket To The Moon_

-

This chapter sucked and took forever to finish. I didn't mean to make it so boring, but it'll set up the next chapter nicely. _That_ shouldn't be too boring:K

Review this and maybe I'll write the next chapter.


	6. Stop This Song

_I don't own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter._

-

Six – Stop This Song

'_I've gone too far to come back from here, but you don't have a clue_

_You don't know what you do to me…'_

"—can't walk home with you guys today," my brain caught Oliver say, although it was a little side tracked: Miley's jeans were slipping down enough to show right above her backside and I can totally see her thong, but I'm trying really hard not to stare because I'm not trying to make it obvious I'm gazing at my best friend's ass. But I know it's completely obvious because even though I've restrained myself to a few sneaky compulsive glances, I found Oliver giving me this sneaky grin and knowing nod.

Shit. Spotted. Well, at least it was by Oliver and no one else. But, that means… now he definitely must have put it all together… Shit!

Then it fully registered what his words meant, and a little too loudly, I spat, "Why?!"

Miley was walking ahead of us, not paying attention.

"I, uh, I'm walking someone else home. So you two will just have to bear being without me… _all _alone." Another sneaky grin. Yeah, he knows. My cheeks are burning by this point.

'_Oliver!_' I mouthed, and he snickered silently just as Miley whipped around in the empty hall.

"Okay, then, Lilly, can you explain the chemistry to me? Because I really can't get it," Miley chimed in.

We were learning about chemical equations, and the only reason I understood them was because I used to play this computer game that taught you all about them. Of course, only I could remember something from an educational computer game I haven't played since sixth grade.

I watched her eyes flick around my face, and since I was mesmerized by that, the "Right," I replied with came out shy and nervous.

We reached her locker, where Oliver was smiling smugly so I swatted him in the tummy. '_I hate you._' I mouthed.

'_Sure 'bout that?'_

Ugh, _boys_.

-

Of course, I was secretly gracious that Oliver left me and Miley alone. I was also pretty gracious that he saw me checking her out, because I'm definitely not ready to admit my feelings out loud.

I wasn't even watching where I was walking, I was so caught up in my thoughts.

I became a little less nervous around Miley; I don't know how, or why. I guess it's because somewhere inside me I tricked myself into believing that since she's my best friend, she wouldn't really suspect what I'm feeling for her lately and if she does, she must not mind, seeing to it that she hasn't said anything. Still, I could ruin it all easily if I'm not careful, either way.

So now, I've been trying to figure it out; does she feel the same way? The only evidence I actually have is what she said on AIM. I know she has at least seen me, and doesn't find me repulsive, so there's the possibility she could be or grow to an attraction towards me. And actually, I've caught her looking at me before I turned to gaze at her a few times, but I would turn back around too quickly to see if she was blushing or anything like that. I'm brave, but I'm not that brave.

And there was that time in her room when she leaned across me to get that brownie, and whispered in my ear in that sexy voice I've never ever heard. But she could have been playing around. Also, there was her holding my hand the other weekend when we were ice skating—which, sadly, I think about every time I see a hand or feel coldness—but then again, any best friends can hold hands and act all cutesy like that. But what if

I tripped up the steps onto her porch.

"Pffftt!" And there came the laughter. Miley's laugh is so bold, and raspy, and loud.

"Mhm, laugh your butt off, Stewart, but don't make me remind you of soccer last week in gym."

She shut up. I smiled—half because of that, and half because her house smells exactly like her clothes… I collapsed onto the green couch and let it drown me.

I didn't notice how quiet Miley got for a few moments. "What is this, a Febreeze commercial?"

"Huh?" I said into the cushion. "No, your hou'f ju'f 'mells really good."

"Well… thanks?" Miley lifted my feet and put them on her lap. I heard her click on the TV.

Then I suddenly had an idea. "Gimme a maffage," I commanded.

Well, its not exactly gonna prove if she likes me, but…. I grinned into the couch.

"Crackhead B-F-F say what?" Miley voiced lazily.

"Give me a massage," I repeated after lifting my head.

"This isn't a spa, Lilly, it's your best friend's house. I am not giving you a mass—"

"It wasn't up for debate, Stewart."

"Lillian Truscott, you are going to get off your butt and teach me chemistry so I don't end up alongside you, working at McDonald's for so long they'll have to remind me when I can retire. And you are going to do it without a massage."

"Ouch. Well, that wasn't hittin' it below the belt or anything. Alright, let's make a deal: Rub my back for ten minutes, then we play school. Just ten minutes."

I'm a genius.

Miley sighed dramatically and mumbled, "Ack, 'kay, fine.." and a breath later I felt her hands on top of my back skimming across the plush of my hoodie.

"Miley, that's not a massage, that's a breeze. Put your 'ceps into it, girl!" Really, though, my back did feel tight, plus, it's Miley's fault it got that way, since she's really the only thing I'm actually stressed about.

"What "'ceps"?" I heard her mutter. She pushed harder into my back, and I tapped my fingers impatiently. "Ugh, take off the hoodie," she scowled.

I'm glad she couldn't see the overly-delighted look on my face as I complied. My hoodie was tossed to the ground, and I lay back down. Miley went back to her usual ways of not doing any nice little favors for me since that surfing catastrophe, so I was planning to milk this up all I could.

But I didn't expect what happened next. I felt her cool fingers slip under my tank top and across my skin, and the entire atmosphere of the room suddenly became different. The playfulness and laughter all drained away.

I actually shivered as her hands slid slowly up to the back of my neck, and she began to knead my shoulder muscles.

I felt tingles all over every inch of my skin, goose bumps sprouting everywhere, and my mind became mush as my body saw and felt nothing but what her hands did to me.

She stayed on my shoulders for a while, and I felt a sigh leak from me as she slithered away from them and down to the muscles beneath my shoulder blades, then to pressing into the thin skin around my spine, and transitioning between that.

Then somewhere along the line, and by this time her hands were warmer than my back, she crept down to right above my hips and my lower back. My skin there was really sensitive, and I shuddered again as she slid her soft fingers down into the region, but then when she began working that out I let out another sigh, although it was more like a long breath because I didn't open my mouth and voice it.

She continued massaging down there, and then I felt her working her way back up my spine, then branching out to my sides which tickled more than anything, then to below my shoulder blades again. She let her finger nails skate on my skin for a little while, which made me have to press into the couch out of pleasure. I suddenly grew embarrassed, and relaxed again.

Eventually, she made her way back up to my shoulders where she started, and continued to knead them like she was at first, but now it felt even better. She just kept rotating the muscle, over and over, switching between clockwise and counter clockwise.

The entire time, the sweet knot right around my bladder grew tighter and tighter, and I unconsciously pressed against the cushions harder and harder.

Then, I felt a throaty groan push itself out of my own throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, not out of embarrassment but because it all felt so _good_, and then it hit me that Miley and I have never had this type of physical contact before, and in that exact moment her hands were gone and my tank top felt cool against me when it replaced her magical hands.

"So, uh," she was flipping through the used loose-leaf in her binder frantically, "Can you… show me…?"

And of course I didn't say a word about what just happened.

God, I'm stupid.

-

It was breezy and dry out as I walked to the corner to meet Miley and Oliver. I squinted to see a lone figure standing there, and hoped to god it was Oliver or anyone but Miley. Last night with her was horribly awkward. I'm shocked with myself. What the hell came over me? What possessed me to start with her? She wouldn't even look up from her paper when we finally got to it. In fact, after not even ten minutes of me beginning to explain chemical equations to her, she suddenly understood and put it all together and pretty much banished me from her house.

"Fuck," I hissed to myself, as a million thoughts raced through my head and one of them hit me so hard I stopped walking.

What if I really ruined things this time? Words and jokes are much different than actions. Especially when those actions two steps away from foreplay and even more especially when you secretly initiate them on purpose, for your own sick, guilty pleasures. What if Miley really, honestly has no feelings for me whatsoever, and I absolutely horrified her yesterday? How the hell did I get so cocky… I actually, truly thought Miley Stewart could actually like another girl… even more, I actually thought Miley Stewart could actually like _me,_ Lilly Truscott, the loser who doesn't even know what she's doing after high school, the idiot who gets so many C's she sees them in her sleep, the girl who can't really do anything more than throw a football five houses down the street or stand on a skateboard for more than five minutes without immediately falling off. Who am I, to choose who she likes? How the hell did I come to convince myself that she felt the same way?

I wasn't even toying in the realms of a more-than-friends relationship… I was just screwing with our friendship. And no matter how badly I want to one day find Miley looking at me with hungry eyes, or feel her lips on mine, or be to her what she is to me… The friendship I have with Miley is something that could never be replaced. Even on a platonic level, I feel comfort with Miley that I've never felt with anyone else (besides Oliver). But being friends with Miley changed me for the better. I'd never know what a true friend is, or make the majority of the amazing memories I have, or become Lola Luftnagle and get the opportunity to see much more of Hannah Montana than meets the eye—as in, how the energy that electrifies the entire room at her concerts comes straight from her heart and not from her or her Daddy's wallet, without Miley Stewart. She's always been there for me, she's always stuck by me through anything, and she's always brightened my entire day, no, entire life, even before I developed feelings for her, hell, she _saved_ my life! The relationship I have with Miley is more than a simple friendship; it's a huge part of my life. I cherish it like any girl cherishes their best friend, but more, in a way.

And if I ruin it with these stupid feelings, if I try to make it into anything more, it's never going to be the same, whether it changes for the better or for the worse. And now I finally see it took me a while, maybe too much of a while, to realize it can only be for the worse.

Shit, Lilly, you really messed up this time…

As I got closer to the corner, I saw that the single person standing there was Miley, of course. She wouldn't even look towards me as I crossed the street. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

Then I was standing before her. I stared at her quietly as my heart flittered and my stomach churned nervously.

"Hey, Miles," I strangled out. I'm sorry for what happened yesterday, I'm sorry I'm a ridiculously horny teenager, I'm sorry I can't ever say any of this, I'm sorry you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I'm sorry I'm attracted to you.

"Hey," she said back, to the street.

What am I supposed to do? Do I try to apologize? Do I lie and say I really didn't mean for it to go that far? Do I tell her it totally wasn't anything she did, I was just really stressed and it was a good massage, do I lie and tell her it wasn't _that_ kind of thing?

I saw Oliver walking towards us and watched him instead of the street.

I shouldn't have listened to him. I shouldn't have let him encourage me to think Miley would be so accepting.

We stood in silence as Oliver approached. And when he did, he stopped and surveyed us for a moment and said, "Wow, you guys are actually quiet…?" in a very suspicious tone while keeping a hesitant eye on me.

I wasn't mad at him. He didn't do anything except be a good, supportive friend. I just looked at him, then the ground, and we began the walk to school.

-

Three words. All Miley has said to me today so far were three words. Three.

'Yeah', 'no', and 'huh?'. Three. And I don't even think 'huh' is a word.

So when I strolled into chemistry, I was anxious to see what the fourth would be when the teacher said we were doing a lab today.

Seeing as to how she's my lab partner for the year.

We slipped on our rubber latex gloves and strapped on our lab goggles, and sat at the dull, black table top on two metal benches, staring anywhere but at each other, stupidly pretending we weren't at the same table, or in the same school, or the same state, or country, or planet, or universe.

Or at least, that's what I was doing.

Miley's voice suddenly yanked me back to reality, when she said, "Okay, so we have to measure out 20mL of the polyvinyl alcohol and put it in that cup, then add food coloring to…"

I heard my neck crack a little as I swung around to look at her. Her head was down and the strap of her goggles indented her hair. I could see her eyes flickering across the page. So, she's not mad?

"Uh, okay, I'll measure that out." I grabbed the empty beaker and the container labeled 'Polyvinyl Alcohol' and did that.

The whole time we did the lab, Miley didn't seem mad or embarrassed or how she had been all day towards me. I even accidentally spilled some sodium borate all over the counter and she giggled.

"I'll clean it up, you'll probably just hurt yourself." She leaned over to grab to paper towels inside a cabinet under the table, which lead my eyes to spill all over her chest.

Heather gray made her look really tan. Her collar bones are ridiculous. Her arms are so skinny! God, she's so skinny. In the good way. Why is Miley so attractive?

She stood and sat the roll of paper towels on the counter, and ripped off a piece, and I looked into her eyes to already see hers aimed directly into mine. And they didn't look happy.

Oh my god, did she see me? What if she did? I mean, she's seen me go to look at her face on plenty occasions, and I'm pretty sure she knew most of them weren't with the intention of speaking to her, but catching me checking her out?

What if she actually confronted me about it? 'Uh, Lilly, were you just checking me out? Could you please not? It's a little creepy.'

Okay, cool. She asked me a question. And not the ones I just imagined her asking. That was close.

-

So, Miley definitely doesn't like me. Not the way I like her. And for a minute there it seemed like she knew, but she doesn't. Because if five months ago, I had a friend who was a girl and I knew she liked me, I wouldn't be inviting her over for a sleep-over/movie night, mentioning how I missed her and was sorry I hadn't been with her for a while because I was a little busy abandoning her for my alter-ego's life of the talented, rich, and famous.

Then again, I wouldn't know what that friend was going through five months ago.

Nor would I know that friend and I were about to have a couple things in common.

-

I stood under the light of the Stewart porch, my hand falling on the doorknob of their front door, but instead stepped back and knocked.

I was studying the moths fluttering around the glass contained porch light, and smiled to myself. Some of them were brave enough to actually sit on the glass, and others were attached to the house, and some hovered right beside the surface. Which one was I?

I didn't hear footsteps, but suddenly the door opened, and there was Robby Ray Stewart himself, chuckling a, "Gee, Lils, y' know, you didn't have t' stop waltzing right on in here. It sure was convenient… 'specially when there's Friday Night Football t' be viewed."

"My bad, Mr. S. Is Miley around here anywhere?" I ran my thumbs under the strings of my sling bag, which had all my possessions for the night in it.

"Yep, she's upstairs in her room, why don't you go on up?"

"'Kay. Lemme know who won later."

He nodded his acknowledgement of my request and plopped down on the couch beside Jackson. They suddenly burst into excited, hearty yells as I climbed the stairs, and grinned to myself with a good-natured eye roll.

When I reached Miley's bedroom door, it was closed, so I knocked, and said, "It's me."

"Come in," was her muffled reply.

I felt the doorknob spin easily under my palm, but the door flung open much too fast because the sight I was greeted with almost knocked me off my feet.

Miley sat on her bed in her underwear and a deep purple colored bra, concentrating very hard on maneuvering some nail polish onto her toes. "Hey," she mumbled, friendly, but distracted.

I didn't even respond. I couldn't. Again and again, my eyes traced over the bronze swell of her breasts, and the dent of her stomach, and the smooth, tan surface of her legs, from one part of her body to another, then another, then back to the first, then up at her face, as she bit her lip absentmindedly, and everywhere else, and then I had to squeak out a "Berightback,gottapee," nearly threw my bag into the wall, and walked. Fast.

I reached the baby blue bathroom and paced around for a few minutes, locking the door behind me.

Okay. Okay. Alright… She _knew _I was coming over. She knew. Aren't you supposed to put clothes on when company comes over? Isn't that basic manners? Isn't Miley supposed to be chock-full of those, with her Southern upbringings and what not?

Isn't it sick that when I looked up into the mirror I looked like a hungry lion—but with my face flushed pink?

Okay Lilly, calm down… Just, just chill.

Things with Miley have to go back to normal. I—I need to stop with this. I have to admit, the effects Miley have on me do feel good; the adrenaline rush, the heady heartbeat, the feeling in my stomach like I'm on King Da Ka but it won't stop and let me off, and most of all, the glory that swells inside my chest when I make her smile and laugh, or the hazy spell I'm in when I look into her eyes or at her lips or hair. I _love_ that feeling, I know I do. And I like Miley, but… earlier this week when she would barely even give me a word, let alone a sentence, it was way too hard. At one point, I almost wanted to cry. Having her anything less than my friend would be a lot harder than it would have been a couple months ago; although it would have been painful enough _then_.

So now… maybe, while I have a little control over myself, not that I really even do, maybe I should just let it go. I could do it, I think. Distance myself. Stop staring. Stop being so open to these thoughts and feelings.

I backed against the off-white bathroom door, and it knocked a little of the wind out of me. I looked up into the mirror at myself, at my crystal clear blue eyes I could see from feet away, and my disheveled blonde hair that I ran my hand through again, and the blush that was starting to fade from my neck, thankfully.

I slid down to the floor with a small thud.

I don't even have Miley, and I never will… but I just need to let her go. All that will come of it is… well, pain. And pleasure. I'll lose a lot of sleep. I'll get even worse grades, 'cause I sure ain't checking out my notes or worksheets or textbooks when Miley is only a text or note or glance or breath away.

Nothing good can come of these thoughts and wishes and dreams and fantasies all concerning Miley, and it could ruin some of the most important things in my life, utmost my friendship with her.

I felt a lump in my throat, and my dry eyes burned a little, and I knew I was about to cry. Maybe it was because I was scared, or maybe because all I've been thinking and wishing and dreaming and fantasizing about was the one thing I can't have.

But the tears just kept falling, patter patter patter all over my sweats and t-shirt and the bathroom floor.

'_Won't someone stop this song?_

_So I won't sing along_

_Someone stop this song_

_So I won't sing…_'

_-"Stop This Song (Lovesick Melody)," Paramore_

-

Please tell me you didn't hate that as much as I'm fearing you all did:/

Angst, anybody?

Btw, the next chapter might take a while to get up. But if it actually takes more than two weeks, I just wanna wish everyone a happy holiday:D!


	7. Stop It

'_Is this really my idea?  
I had no clue, that all of this was really happening…'_

Mom was still calling up the stairs for me. "Lilly? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine mom!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. Tight.

My heart was thudding weightlessly. It felt like it was going to detach itself from my chest and float away. I just skated here all the way from Miley's house, in three minutes and some seconds. Walking, it took about fifteen.

I lay on the bed, my fingers twirling along my stomach, one arm tucked behind my head.

I thought back to how she moaned in the middle of the night when I wasn't sleeping. Just imagining the sound of it made me feel the usual adrenaline rush I experience whenever does something sexy. For as sweet and innocent as that girl seems, she has a lot of sex appeal and the funny thing is she doesn't even know it.

I scoffed out loud at myself, and whipped around to punch my pillow. Twice, three times. I punched and punched for a few minutes, even though my knuckles kept connecting with the metal bars of my bed's headboard through the pillow. But I didn't care. It hurt, but I didn't stop.

When I finally did, I examined my knuckles. They turned red as blood rushed to them, and I saw some cherry red nicks.

I exhaled deeply and flopped back down on the navy blue comforter.

I wasn't satisfied. In fact, I felt tears rise to my eyes but I blinked them in. A sore lump rose in my throat, almost painfully.

…_when my stomach twists and I have a stupid, goofy grin on my face, which appears when Miley is even just in the same room as I am… I just, I feel so __good. __I feel like nothing can ruin the moment; even if it's raining outside, even if I'm having a shitty day, even if a tornado is spinning towards me… When I see that girl, when she sees me, I feel a happiness I never knew I could feel…_

I think about how I feel for her. I actually let out a chuckle when I think of how when I gaze at her really hard or bite my lip in self-restraint or have such a huge smile on my face I can't even feel my cheeks, she doesn't even notice.

My heart sinks as I realize she never sees because she never looks. And she doesn't look because she's not fascinated with me in the way I am with her.

I felt a tear slide across the bridge of my nose, and clutched a pillow to me as I lay on my side.

-

"_You're a tru-u-ue friend…_"

The crowd erupted into more cheers that made my ears scream with ringing. Miley throws up her arms as if to contain them all from mid-air, and they quiet down.

"That last song was dedicated to my true friend, Lola! Get your butt out here, girl!"

I jogged out onto the stage—I kind of love it when Miley does this, but also hate it. I don't look out all the billions of eyes trained on me, but instead skim over the back wall and wave an arm. More cheers. _For me_.

Miley laced her fingers with mine and lifted my arm to the far away ceiling obscured by the web of spotlights, and I broke into a full grin. She grabbed my hand. I looked at the fans-some older kids, a bunch of little girls.

I didn't even hear her goodbye before she led me off stage. I felt nothing but her hand in mine as I waved goodbye to the audience.

Miley let go of my hand as we walked down a narrow hall, members of the stage crew and background dancers patting her on the back, and my heart sank. Everyone gathered together and we did our hands-in success circle done after every show, and Miley and I continued to her dressing room.

I shut the door behind us but I could still hear the muffled talking of everyone backstage. Miley began dabbing the sweat off her face and taking off her wig.

"That was great, Miles! Geez, you're more talented than my whole family put together."

"Thanks, Lil, but I have to disagree."

"And why is that?" I crashed on the couch, waiting to hear her compliment me.

"Well, there are plenty of people in your family, I'm sure one of them has to be pretty good at something."

I crinkled a brow, waiting for her to go on and say that would be me.

"And which one would that be?" I know I was fishing for compliments, but I was confused.

"I don't know, whoever…" She was checking herself in the mirror and touching up her make-up.

I squinted at her in the mirror, waiting for her to turn and respond to my eyes.

She glanced at me, but then right back at herself.

"Why are you re-doing your makeup?" I asked.

"Uh… because?" She was concentrating on drawing her eyeliner on.

"It's not like you need it,"

She didn't answer. Did she not catch the sincerity in my voice?

I waited for her to answer. She didn't for a couple minutes.

When she finally turned to walk to the closet, I changed the subject again. "Damn, did you see that guy practically drooling over you in the front row?"

After a moment she said, "With the sweater vest?" from across the room.

"Yeah"

"Yeah, no, faux-geek isn't my type."

"I'm not faux. Or geek."

She ignored my comment. Was she upset or something?

She returned to the large vanity and began reattaching the wig—we did have to exit in disguise—and I asked if she was okay.

"Yeah, fine."

She sounded fine, too.

"Like… geeky guy in the front row fine?"

"No," she answered sternly.

"Like… Lola Luftnagle fine?"

She set her blonde hair in place over her shoulders and said in a distressed voice, "Lilly…" like my mother does when I bring home a report card with no A's or B's on it.

So I dropped it.

She was packing her purse up and I was confused. "We're leaving?" Because sometimes we chilled back here after a show.

"Yeah."

Something had to be wrong. "Do you have somewhere to go after this, or…"

"No, Lilly," she practically spat. What the _hell_?

I stayed quiet until she was done getting her stuff together and followed her out of the room, into the limo, and back to my house. She didn't even ask me to sleep over.

-

I didn't really notice that I wormed my way into my 'comfort zone'—fluffy robe, halfway through a carton of Ben & Jerry's and onto the couch, watching TV but not really watching it—until Oliver walked in and said, "What's wrong with you?"

How pathetic is it to be so caught up in your thoughts you don't even realize how upset you are?

"Uh… nothing…" Wow, even my voice sounded sad. Then again, it was the first time I spoke all day and its three in the afternoon.

"Are you sure it's nothing? Because you're watching TV in your fluffy robe and I know what that usually means."

"What does that usually mean?" I put another spoonful of Phish Food in my mouth. Yum.

"Either someone broke your heart, rejected you, insulted you, forgot big plans with you, or you got in a fight with me, Miley, or your mom. Which is it?"

Wow. Like I said—the kid isn't the brightest thing around, but we've been together for so long he knows everything about me.

I mumbled, "None of them," even though in a way, most of them fit the bill.

Oliver gave me a strange look and nodded, and flopped onto the couch. He slipped the spoon from my hands and invaded my container of ice cream.

I let him.

We watched show after show and episode after episode, only to get up to get food, barely speaking any more than five words until it was dark out and Oliver said it he should head home.

He said bye and I said bye and I watched him get up and walk over to the door, and as his hand rested on the door, he turned to me.

"Miley could never, ever hate you," he said carefully, "especially not for something you can't help, like this whole thing. Feel better, skater girl."

I smiled as his lanky figure vanished out the door.

-

About two days later, I met up with Oliver and the guys at the skate park. And day after day I returned, even if it wasn't with them. Skating was getting Miley off my mind for the most part, and when it wasn't, it still felt good to be exercising and burning off the thoughts in some way.

I know the strange little occurrence in her dressing room wasn't all that heart-shattering, but Miley was breaking my heart without even trying. Or knowing.

And the worst part was, I was mad at her for it. Just a little bit. Especially on Christmas day, when I received a complete new skateboard, the exact shirts I was checking out at the mall over the past month, a cute new Hollister hoodie, and other nice things, I couldn't be happy because I knew what I really wanted.

And I would never have it.

More skating, more bruises, more scrapes, and it was New Year's Eve and I was at Oliver's. Miley wouldn't be here—she was on a Holiday Hannah tour. She sent me a couple texts, some of them asking for me to come with her on the tour, others chock full of apology, but I just ignored them, throwing my phone on some surface away from me whenever her name showed up on my phone.

Was that wrong of me?

It was around ten-o-clock and Oliver's house was flooded with all the kids from school. Some were already wasted and playing pong, as it was BYOB—Oliver's mom would freak if she even knew her son was throwing parties, letting alone sharing her booze—others out back sitting around, a few pairs sucking each other's faces off, and everyone else in clusters sprinkled throughout the halls and stairs and rooms.

And that's when Miley walked through the door, and my heart cracked and pounded and I was suddenly flushed with anger all at once.

The guys standing before me as I leaned back against the counter all began high-fiving, and I wanted to whip back around and glare at them, but shit, I almost forgot how pretty Miley was and I really just needed to drink her all in.

The way my stomach fluttered almost felt refreshing, and I was so mesmerized by everything _Miley _that by the time she appeared right before me and began babbling an apology, I just shushed her and told her it was okay and that she did nothing to be sorry for. She had just been PMSing, after all.

Oliver approached us and suggested we all play some Truth or Dare, for a fun little throwback, so we collected people and sat in a circle and I was next to Miley and I felt like I was on some kind of high as our knees touched and she smiled as some girl said something to her.

An empty beer bottle was placed in the center of us on the kitchen floor, and at first the game was slightly boring, but then, of course, it got interesting. Janie Aims made out with the side of Oliver's mom's fish tank, Mikey Peeler ran through the house with his shirt tied around his head and jelly smeared all over his torso, two kids were sentenced to a full fledged make out, Molly James really did get with that sub last month, Parker and Holly never hooked up, to contrary belief, and eventually the bottle had to land on one of us (as in me, Miley, or Oliver,) and it happened to be Miley.

"Truth, or dare?" Matt Marshall asked her. Miley was wary of taking truth, and I could tell she was feeling a little audacious tonight, so I wasn't surprised when she chose 'dare.'

"Alright, I dare you… to make out with…."

My brain froze. Matt's eyes flickered around the circle and settled on me.

Jesus Christ, this was it, this was it! I was finally going to kiss Miley! No, more than that. Her tongue was going to be in my mouth. I wonder if she'll think I'm a good kisser, because I know she'll—

"Ryan."

Wait. What?

Miley chuckled and said, "Okay," and relocated over to the hazel eyed, charcoal colored wavy haired junior, and my heart thudded in my ears and the surface of my face. How, I didn't know, but why? I was pretty sure.

I watched as she descended into him and tilted her head and it began rotating and I redirected my eyes to the bottle in front of me, still pointing at where Miley had been seated, and I really couldn't watch this.

It felt like ten minutes passed, even though it was only about one minutes, by the time Miley sat back down next to me, and as Miley was thinking of something to make Joanie do, I stood up silently and made for the back door.

I should have said I'd be right back or something, but why lie?

-

I was being a baby, but as I walked down the sidewalk further and further away from Oliver's, I couldn't help but keep moving.

I seem to be running away a lot when it comes to Miley. And it's strange, because when I do this, I just want to turn around and go back and be with her. Whenever I try to get away from her, I only want to be with Miley even more.

Tears were streaming down my face, and I swiped them away with my sleeve quickly.

"Lilly!" I heard someone shout.

Of course, it was the one person I truly wanted to see, but I wasn't going to let that show. I kept walking. One foot in front of the other.

"_Lil_ly!"

I walked slower—I wasn't even making myself. I just did.

Miley eventually swerved around in front of me, bringing me to a halt by gripping my shoulders.

"Hey, where are you going?" She asked, all out of breath, dipping low to gaze into my hung face.

"Um," I cleared my throat, but I still sounded a little shaky. "I felt like I had to throw up and," it was becoming routine for me to look anywhere but in her eyes, "I really didn't want it to happen at the party, so… I just decided to go home. Tell Oliver I said bye and sorry for me, okay?"

I tried to rip away from her and brush by, but she hooked her arm through mine and I was rejoicing on the inside.

"Hold your horses there, girly—I can't let you leave, then it would be pointless for me to stay. Do you still feel like you're gonna throw up?"

I looked into her eyes. The cobalt swirls were embedded with a sense of compassion and sympathy. She peered into my eyes and after a second she asked in a light, thoughtful voice, "Hey, were you crying?"

I shook my head vigorously, and brushed by her to walk home. She appeared beside me but we didn't say a word the rest of the way there.

-

School began again, and day after day flicked by until winter melted away into warm spring and the ocean waters were still a little chilly but Oliver and I went surfing a few times already.

It was finally May, the stupid year was almost over, and it couldn't be going by any slower. In fact, it was Thursday night, tomorrow was Friday, as well as the Spring Fling and, not that I really cared to go, but Johnny asked Miley so I got a date and that means my Friday night's gonna be pretty much horrible.

If I couldn't even handle watching Miley kiss someone that wasn't me, what was I going to do tomorrow night when she was hanging all over her crush since eighth grade?

-

**mileybabyyxx: **heyy did you get your dress for tom?

**lillyszlikee: **yeaa

**mileybabyyxx: **aww! my lil lillian's all grown up!

**lillyszlikee: **lol yes i m

**mileybabyyxx: **omg i still cant believe johnny asked me

**lillyszlikee: **ha i can. glad your happy

I let out a shaky breath. The truth was, I couldn't be more of the opposite about tomorrow night.

Miley and I talked about the quiz I missed and how Jake broke his leg and the Hannah concert Saturday night.

After a while, I just needed to say it. It was time for me to get this off my chest.

**lillyszlikee: **hey miles… have u evr been in love?

I began trembling. I couldn't believe this.

**mileybabyyxx: **well, you know, people all have a different def. of love, but no, i don't think so. Why?

Why?

bcuz im i

well idk how your gonna take this bu

im fckin in love with you stupi

**lillyszlikee: **idk, jw wat its like

Ugh, I'm such a wimp. How did I pussy out of that one?

Okay, let me try again.

**lillyszlikee: **whats the cutest thing you think someone could say to you?

**mileybabyyxx: **haha okay where are all the love questions comin from?

**lillyszlikee: **idk lol im just in that romantic mood na mean.

That sounded terrible. I'm not trying to seduce her via AIM, all I want is for these stupid feelings to die!

All I want is to stop feeling angry at my best friend because she doesn't even know what she does to me.

**mileybabyyxx: **right… that better not be some kinda nasty talk lillian

**lillyszlikee: **lmao miley stewart! would i ever nasty talk you?

**mileybabyyxx: **at this point, only god knows what your liable to do.

**lillyszlikee: **true. 

**lillyszlikee: **but you didnt anser my ? !

**mileybabyyxx: **okay, okay. i thought the way jake asked me out was cute. like when

he came out and just said it

**lillyszlikee: **lmao. no miles, he didn't do that yet

**mileybabyyxx: **what?

**mileybabyyxx: **lmao shut up !

**lillyszlikee: **lol… so all you want is a wordsy confesion? boooring

**mileybabyyxx: **ugh alright. id think something creative, like taking me out for a drive and renting out a billboard and putting up 'miley stewart will you be my gf?' on

it would be interesting. and it would be kind of romantic. not that exact thing persay, but you know

**lillyszlikee: **ohhh ok. jeez between highschool and performing in front of a million

people a week one would think u never have time to sit around and fantasize

**mileybabyyxx: **lmao well being on a tour bus isn't all that eventful

**lillyszlikee: **right. so something creative nd romantic?

**mileybabyyxx: **alright do you know something i don't?

…

**lillyszlikee: **like wat do you mean?

**mileybabyyxx: **come on lil im not stupid. you gotta know something i don't or something. is someone gonna ask me out… like…. Johnny…? ;]

**lillyszlikee: **no honestly im jus askin

i hope to god that kid doesn ask you ou

**mileybabyyxx: **okay.. but when he does ill know. ill know, lilly.

**lillyszlikee: **but hes not!

**mileybabyyxx: **…right.

**lillyszlikee: **seriously!

**mileybabyyxx: **k lillypad. well, im goin to bed. night! 3

**lillyszlikee: **i mean it!

**mileybabyyxx has signed off at 22:04:32**

**lillyszlikee: **w/e goodnight popstar.

**lillyszlikee: **333

Well, it wasn't a completely pointless conversation.

Shit, I'm a wimp.

I leaned back in my computer chair, swung around a little bit.

What could I do?

I'm ready for my lovefest with this girl to end. If it keeps going, New Year's Eve will happen all over again every time it's reinforced in me that Miley isn't mine and never will be.

I _need _to tell her.

I don't have the money to rent out a billboard, in fact, I have pretty much no more than three bucks on me.

And honestly, I can't act like this is normal and just ask her out. In fact, I can't ask her out period. She deserves a confession and a huge explanation, if she won't run away before I give her one.

I should do something meaningful for her, something she'll like.

But what?

I look around my room. My bed? I could invite her over and sit her down and straight up tell her. But that wouldn't be creative. The ceiling? I could sit her down and wait until she looks up and write it on the wall? No, my mom would flip. But I wasn't gonna do it like that. This isn't a normal crush, so it shouldn't be exposed normally.

This has to come with an explanation. But what would I say? I look at the bookshelf and at all the dusty books I scarcely touch. I could try to look through them and find some passage of a romantic profession of love, make her read it, maybe. Well, then again, its not like I could find anything that describes even closely to how I'm feeling in any of them.

I look some more. The window, some photographs, my CDs, my closet, the television and some DVDs. I'm not going to pull a Romeo on her and throw rocks at her window, that's so cliché. And she has doubles of all those photographs, and pictures of Oliver with birthday cake smeared all over his face won't really describe any of my feelings. I could invite her over and have a movie night and put on love movies—but, no, it's a little sketchy.

Maybe I could jump out of the closet and tell her I'm out for her.

Har har.

Wait—I double take back to the CDs on the desk, then to the blank ones up top.

Maybe I could make her, like… a mixtape, or something?

Yeah, it would be perfect! I can picture it already—I'll give it to her and say that I just wanted to get this off my chest, and I know it's not normal but it's not like I chose for this to happen, and just listen to this and maybe you'll understand what I've been feeling for the past couple months.

And then I'd leave and give her some time with it and text her the next day or something.

I pulled up iTunes on my computer and got to work.

-

I rest my head in my palm and smooth out my silky periwinkle colored dress and, I was right, this night is _terrible_.

I lifted my eyes from my half eaten chocolate cake and look across the table full of all my friends to Miley and Johnny. They were talking, all close to each other, his arm sitting on the booth around her shoulders.

She looked unbelievable tonight. Her hair was styled in professional-looking, flowing chestnut waves, and she had on some dark gray shadow that made her eyes look extremely blue and her long lashes and lips looked as gorgeous since they were touched up as well. She wore this form fitting royal blue strapless dress that had only a slit down the lower thigh to the mid calves where it ended, and Christ, I know the girl is pretty, but I can't even remember what my date's face looks like, or anything else about tonight but her, for that matter.

All night she's had this smile stuck on her face. All night she's been so happy. With Johnny.

They haven't really touched besides when they danced. I glanced at them once and was overcome with so much jealousy I began squeezing my plastic cup of punch so tightly it almost split.

At least they haven't kissed or anything.

I wonder, again, what it would be like to kiss Miley. Not Johnny, with his gorgeous curly brown mass of hair and his smooth, cinnamon skin, or his golden dress shirt and black vest and matching slacks. Not Johnny, but me.

I imagine closing in on her face, so close I could see her clear pores, and I imagine how her lips would feel against mine. I know what a kiss feels like, but I also know that one with her would be a whole different animal. It would be so much more than lip-to-lip contact. It would come with emotion and feeling coordinating to the touch.

I _really_ had to get over this… attraction? Crush? Whatever it was, I'm pretty sure it's the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with. But also the greatest. In a way, I didn't want it to end, because of how the feelings made me feel so good, but I had to get over them because it was just as much heart-wrenching as pleasurable, if million fold.

And I wish I could have done it while gazing down at the gooey chocolate cake I was chasing around with my fork, because when I looked up again, I saw Johnny and Miley connected at the lips.

-

I watched the people rush past and the car inch along the street. I was sitting on a wooden and iron bench outside Olivia's Pies and watching everyone heading this way and that made me wonder what they thought of the pathetic teenage girl sitting on a bench in formal wear with her makeup all smeared.

Yes, I ran, again. I think this would be the last time. I think time away from Miley would help me get over her.

I sat for minutes, almost half an hour, just watching, before someone sat down beside me. I hastily wiped below my eyes, although I'm sure I still looked like a mess.

"Hey."

And of course, it was Miley. Miley, the subject of my thoughts every waking minute. God, I never thought I'd say something like that.

"Hey."

"Lilly…"

"What?"

My heart was racing, pulsating in my throat this time, and I felt excited. Miley's attention was on me.

"What's going on…?"

My eyes were glued to the sidewalk, but I focused on my chest physically jitter from the spastic muscle inside of it, the one going crazy.

"You've been acting so strange lately," Miley continued when I didn't answer, "running out of places at random times and _crying_," I guess I wasn't hiding that very well, "and it feels like out of no where you're pissed as hell at me, and I just want to know what you're thinking."

I almost laugh. Because this is my chance to tell her and I know if I take it, it's not like it'll even work out. It's not like she'll understand. People walk by the two teenage girls sitting on the bench outside Olivia's Pies, probably thinking the one in the lighter blue dress got dumped by her boyfriend or something.

"Lilly? Don't shut me out, please," she begged with more emotion than I've heard directed at me for a long time, "I'm really sorry for whatever I did. Forgetting any plans, saying anything, doing anything, like, I'm really sorry about the dressing room thing, I promise I'll warn you next time I'm pmsing."

I broke into a smile, and chuckled a hoarse, throaty chuckle. Fresh tears lined my eyes, and this was _so_ pathetic and wrong but of course I find the smidgeon of light through it and laugh.

I still don't glance up, though. I shut my eyes to trap the tears. "Look, Miley, it's nothing you did, it's just… really complicated."

"Maybe if you told someone—"

"I can't tell you. It's so much I don't even know where to start."

"Well, you better decide right now 'cause we ain't getting up from this bench before you spill."

"Miley," I sigh, "it's not the kind of thing I can just spill, okay?"

"…What kind of thing is it?"

It's a love thing. It's a you thing, but I don't tell her that.

"Well, does it have anything to do with Ryan Bellmann? Or Johnny? Or anyone?"

"_What?_ No, it has nothing to do with guys," I almost broke into a smile again at that statement. Never thought I'd be one to say that.

"It's just, I noticed you always get all quiet and mad whenever I bring up the kiss, or all week when I've even said Johnny's name, or any guy, but I can't really pull one off the top of my head with how many guys we talk about, it's just whenever I bring up a guy, it seems to upset you."

Oh god. I cant—I can't let her figure this out.

But I don't want to lie anymore. I don't want to pretend. Oliver said Miley will never hate me, especially for this, so… Maybe I should just tell her.

I lift my head and see the same expression from the night of the party. I looked into her eyes and she looked into mine and after a long few seconds I said, "It's not any of them," hoping maybe she'll piece it together now.

"Then who is it?" She said, sounding kind of aggravated and pushy and a flood of anger broke within me. She had no right to be the aggravated one in this.

I stood up, breaking out stare. "Miley, I _said _it's not the kind of thing I can just come out and tell you!" I shouted, causing people to stare at the girl all dressed up bitching at her pretty friend, "So just stop trying to force it out of me and just—just leave it! Leave _me_!"

I turned around and began to stomp away, heels in my hand as I stepped barefoot down the sidewalk. There was some pieces of glass next to where I was walking but I really didn't give a shit right now.

"Wait, Lilly!" I felt something clamp my shoulder and all in one motion it turned me around but I lost my footing because I didn't want to step on the glass and I sort of jerked into Miley as she caught me in my arms and I made the brash decision to put my lips to hers.

My first thought when I felt her lips on mine was how soft they felt, and as I pushed harder, how tense. My second was that these lips were just on Johnny's lips but now they're on mine and wow. Which each fleeting moment my stomach flipped harder and faster and my heart was racing and I never wanted it to end.

But when I wondered what the people walking down the street around us were thinking when they saw the two teenage girls standing outside of Olivia's Pies kissing, I pulled back and realized, Miley was probably a little taken aback by that fact, and most likely disgusted with me now.

I looked up into her face, and her eyes were widened in horror while her brow was lowered incredulously and I spun around again, dodging the glass, and my feet hit the cement soundly as I ran blocks and blocks away from it all.

'_My thoughts remain lying on the floor_

_It's not my fault I'm such an awful mess and more…'_

_-"Stop It," The Almost_

_-_

Okay, I'm **extremely**sorry for the wait. To be honest, I decided last minute to change the direction of the story and switch it up. The next chapter is going to be the last.

After this, I have an idea for another Liley that I'll start probably within the next two weeks. Hopefully that one will come out to be a little more organized D:

Anyway, I want to thank everyone for sticking with me and leaving reviews. Your words mean a lot to me. The last chapter will be up by the eighteenth.


	8. Into Your Arms

**Okay here's the last chapter of Soundtrack To My Heart. God I actually FINISHED something!! I can't wait to write out my next stories, hopefully you guys like them. **

**Well, here it is.**

**I do not own Hannah Montana or the song recited in this chapter or throughout this now completed story!**

Eight – Into Your Arms

"_I'm falling in love,_

_But it's falling apart_

_I need to find my way back to the start…"_

I held the CD in the thin, opaque red case in my hands. I was in the hallway standing in front of a particular locker, but not my own. I took a shaky breath. Why was I doing this, again?

Oh yeah. Because things couldn't get any worse than this, and now was my chance.

Things were horrid. My life became a tunnel of ice, I liked to think. Even though Miley and I still shared classes, I haven't looked her in the face for the past three weeks. I felt cold and nervous and like I was always on the spot, but I would gaze into the floor or at my notebook and everything around me and in me seemed frozen and cold, like ice. I didn't even think about texting Miley, I didn't want to call her, and I surely didn't want meet up with her and talk it all out.

Because when we finally do that, I don't want to have to feel the huge pit of sadness and get all depressed when she actually says she doesn't feel the same way, but we'll always be friends. I've known that for the entire time, but I don't think I can bring myself to hear it from her mouth. So, I've been ignoring her and she hasn't made much haste to contact me. I guess she was grossed out.

I'm so scared to hear her say we can only be friends because I'll never see Miley as just a friend ever again. She opened my eyes, she made me understand everything. When I see a married couple, I now know what they feel for each other, and when I watch a movie and the two main characters that fell in love with one another are naked in bed in the light of morning, I know what went into last night. I'll see Miley as a friend, but then so, so much more.

Each and everyday since the summertime, every time I closed my eyes, I thought about the kiss with Miley. And when I thought about that, I thought about when she gave me CPR, with my lips so sensitive to hers, and both times the lip-to-lip contact was bigger than my body. It was bigger than my mind or inner organs that like to freak out whenever Miley's around, it was bigger than anything in me. It felt more like that's right where I was supposed to be, as though I could only be complete if I had Miley's lips on mine.

And now that I've been realizing that, it scares me. I was meant to be with Miley? With a girl? This entire time? And how can I feel this way when she doesn't? Why am I being put through this? I'm so scared, I actually cried about it one night last week, because what am I supposed to learn from this?

I know I marvel over her looks constantly, since, shit, she's like the perfect girl, but sometimes I catch myself thinking I would still feel this way even if she didn't have that face or those legs or those eyes or any of it. When she talks or sings, the sound of her voice can put me to sleep or bring me to tears or make me laugh and always make me smile. When somebody trips in the hall and she giggles but rushes over to help them up, my heart fleets at dangerous speeds. When I see her singing onstage in the blonde wig, watch her put her heart and soul into her performance, I get the same feeling because it's all so beautiful. Miley Stewart is a beautiful person; on the inside, she's equally as beautiful as the outside.

I think I can honestly say I've fallen in love with her. It's not just a crush anymore. It's not just liking, or infatuation. I love her, and I can imagine growing old with her, and I can imagine putting my lips on hers even when were eighty years old and every day in between and still feel like lightning is striking my lips and my skin and my veins and my stomach and most of all, my heart.

I think about this while my eyes burn through the CD. I began shaking; I watched my hands tremble, then the red square.

I was wrong. It can get worse than this; the two of us ignoring each other. If I put this mixtape in her locker, therefore leading to my confession explaining that CD, instead of ignoring me out of disgust, she won't just be ignoring me anymore. She could possibly be erased from my life. She'll be even more horrified and scared and incredulous when I reveal the depth of my feelings to her. And if she's not, what if she's angry I lied to her? That I loved her and kept it a secret all year? What if she can never trust me again?

Either way, I fucked everything up. I should never have kissed her. I should never have let her know. What did I _do_?

_BRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGGGG!_

Doors began flying open, smacking into the wall. Kids were cheering, shouting "FREEDOM!" since it was the last day of school, and I quickly shoved the CD into one of the slits of the yellow locker and began to walk away, but then I realized I shouldn't have done that and wheeled back around.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, god dammit, shit, shit shit… STUPID!"

"Uh… are you okay, Lilly?"

"_No_, god dammit, I'm _not_ fucking okay! I'm the stupidest asshole on the face of the earth and I just fucked up my whole entire life! Ugh, why?! Why am I allowed to decide things for myself?! Why am I such a moron?!!"

I head butted the locker I was trying to open and then sprang back and blinked a few hard times.

"You—you're not a moron, but um… do you like… need something?"

Wait… who have I been talking to?

I turned my head, slowly, terrified.

Miley.

I glanced down at her lime green flip flops up her stonewash jean-clad legs, up her purple halter top and to her stiffened features, as though she were a photographer of wildlife working with some beastly animal, trying not to make any sudden movements.

_Oh my god._

I spun around on my heels and began to walk briskly out of the school, my heart pounding in my throat again, but it was singing and sobbing at the same time because I loved that girl, I really did, but she didn't feel the same way and then the tears came and somehow Oliver was standing before me outside at the bottom of the steps and I ran right into his baby blue polo and dug my face into his shoulder, sobbing and sniffing and it all came out.

-

"God, Lil, _where _is your kitchen?" Oliver's voice rang into the den.

It's pathetic, but I'm in the exact same clothes sitting in the exact same spot, in the exact same position, with the exact same brand of ice cream in my lap with the exact same channel on TV as I was the day after Miley got all pissy with me at the last Hannah concert I've been to.

Except, this time it's worse. It's all worse. Possibly the wors_t_.

Because Miley and I haven't talked since the night of the Spring Fling and it's now the third day of summer and shit, I can barely function.

"It's in my stomach," I sounded like a zombie.

This is more ridiculous than ever.

I watched 50 Cent travel further into his mansion, not noticing how quiet Oliver got.

When he plopped down beside me on the couch, I should have jumped. I didn't.

"Lilly, come on, just cheer up…"

I stared wordlessly at the TV screen.

"I know, I know—"

"No, seriously, I can't stand this anymore! Lils, you're like—like, dead, or something! You know what? I'm gonna go talk to her for you. Yeah, that's it."

He stood up but I grabbed his shirt and yanked him right back down. "Are you trying to earn a slap in the face?"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?! God, it's a stupid little girl crush, can't you be over it by now?"

The room got silent. His words stung and frightened me a little bit, part because of how they made me realize that I looked even more pathetic to a third eye out of my own, part because it's about a girl, and part because it wasn't just a crush.

But it frightened me because I had to tell him that.

"Lilly?"

"No… Oliver, it's not just a 'stupid little girl crush'…"

"What is it then? I know it's at least something for you to be bothering with it in the first place. I wouldn't even've expected you to tell me about it, since it's about a girl and whatnot. Not to mention it's Mi—"

"I'm in love with her."

"…ley….?" Oliver finished, then did an impressive imitation of a fish, and continued with a feeble, "…In… _what_? What are you _on_? Lilly, how—how… How would you, like, know?"

"Well…" I began, "I know what a crush feels like, or liking someone, or even loving someone… Like, you know, being comfortable around them no matter what and all, but this… It's like a whole 'nother emotion, you know? Its like, not only can I get it off my mind, but I don't want to. Or… well, I don't know, I can't say it…"

"No, what is it? Just say it, I won't laugh or anything."

Ice skating with Miley, a fond memory of mine, flashes through my mind once again, with how I told her I won't laugh at her when we were on the couch before we left.

And so I take a deep breath and tell Oliver, "When I'm around," I clear my throat, "M-Miley, it's as if nothing else exists and I can't look anywhere but at her or think about anything but her, and even though it's like that all the time anyway, when she's actually there and in front of me and before my eyes, and not just in my head, it's like a dream, and it's like I never want to wake up."

Oliver keeps his eyes on me, but nods. "Wow."

"Yeah… it got pretty bad."

He finally looks away, still bobbing his head. "Yeah, especially if you're gonna say something as corny as that and actually mean it." We chuckle but I can tell he's blown away.

"So… now what are you gonna do?"

Yup, that seems to be the question, and I've been asking myself all month but I seem to have been putting off answering it.

"What do you think I should do?"

"Personally? I think you should grab a video camera, run over to her house right now, tell her what you just told me and press record because the product of all that would make a _very_ nice movie. And profit—OUCH!"

I drop my curled fist back to my lap. "Yeah, no. She doesn't like me back, stupid. That's kind of the whole problem here?"

Oliver turns to me and scoffs, "Is that really—" and then his face suddenly softened and he took a deep breath. "Look, Lilly… I told you before. Miley could never hate you, not even if you told her you like her as more than a friend. No matter how much… I can pretty much guarantee you she'll be cool with it. So, whenever you find the balls—"

"Ovaries"

"—Ovaries to go make your huge revelation, I think you'll be surprised at how big of a deal you're making all this."

I think of the day I looked at Oliver in the lunch table. Of how his chocolate brown eyes just shined. I looked into his eyes then, and I saw them hardened with honesty and... well, to be honest, maturity.

I hugged him. "Thanks, Big O," I mumbled into his shoulder.

"Anytime, T-cott," he mumbled into my hair, "But seriously, think about taking a video camera along—OWW!"

-

Summer has been hot, muggy, and repetitive. Wake up, call Oliver, head to the beach, surf for a couple hours, get tanner than I already am, go home and put on clothes, go skate and get sun burnt, cool off as the sun sets, go home, sleep.

I obviously haven't gathered the 'ovaries' to make any kind of contact with Miley. It's not as much out of fear as it is out of courage any more. What if she changed, and I don't even know? What if when I show up on her doorstep, I don't even recognize her what she's standing before me?

Not that I could ever forget her face. But what if she's not the same?

I want to get it over with, but how can I swim against the current of an entire ocean holding me back?

-

It's July 4th and Oliver told me to come over for a family barbeque while we were walking home from the beach today.

I put on a pair of light-wash jeans with random holes throughout them and a Billabong t-shirt. I straighten my hair completely. I like how the ends are all long and thin.

I grab my long board and coast down the few streets to Ollie's. There are a bunch of cars outside his house, and I can hear the grooves of music pounding from the inside. How much family did his mom invite?

When I walk inside I slap myself in the head for being so stupid.

I was now trapped at Oliver's Fourth of July party—not at a family barbeque, judging by the fact no member of the extended Oken clan was in sight.

"Oliver, what are you trying to pull?" I hissed at him once I got him cornered in the walk-in kitchen cupboard—but when I peered into his face I saw that his features were already transformed by—you guessed it—alcohol.

"I, erm… jush wanted you to have shome fun, Lilsh! Get smashed, let loosh, go nutsh!" He hiccupped and giggled and I growled, released his shirt, and nearly ripped the cupboard door off its hinges.

I was about to return to my board when Oliver's slurred voice rang in my ears, whispering to me through the overlapping chatter of everyone else cramped in the house.

"Yo, Lils!" Someone called from the living room. I turned to see some guys from the skate park, one of them holding out a drink for me.

-

At first I couldn't believe she was touching her lips to mine, let alone on top of me, but she thrust her tongue into my mouth hungrily and honestly I still can't believe this.

She tastes fruity—tropical, like some kind of beach-y drink. With a strong undertow of vodka.

Miley doesn't really drink, so I was pretty surprised to spot her tripping over to me downstairs about twenty minutes ago as I stared her down through my buzzed haze. And vodka's pretty rough, and she's gonna feel it in the morning for sure, and has she ever even drunken anything as Hannah, and god_ dammit_ she's setting me on _fire_.

My lips tingle and burn and it all makes my ears ring as Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi" pulsates up through the springs of the bed and sends small vibrations through my back.

Who ever thought Miley would be a top?

Hell, who ever thought she'd even want to kiss me? Does she like me? Am I the only person whose lips have been on hers tonight?

I understand she's, well, gone, but I know she's going to regret this in the morning. I mean, it's _me_, Lilly Truscott, her hyperactive, quirky best friend who eats her feelings but balances it all out with her athletic habits. Somewhat.

And, shit, I know what I should do.

Her hands creep up my shirt and her tongue pivots around sloppily in my mouth but it's still all so delicate but sexy at the same time, so _Miley_, and I know what I should do but I want this now more than ever and I never in my wildest dreams could have guessed it would feel like this.

Because even through my slight haze, every touch is so warm and crisp, and I feel her rub every short, sun-bleached hair on my stomach and arms and neck and her tongue in my mouth is making me begin to lose it.

She hits a certain spot on my waist and I feel myself arch up and my cheeks are set on fire even more when I moan into her mouth, but shit, she doesn't stop.

And unfortunately that action triggers another fond memory of mine—the massage. Just thinking of it makes my hips raise involuntarily into hers.

And just as my conscience is pulling through my heady daze, Miley moans, and it's like nothing I've ever heard out of her or period, and it's in her voice and it's out of pleasure and I'm giving her that pleasure and my conscience sinks right back down.

I find that I want nothing more than to hear her do it again, but when I try to flip her around and activate my plans of attacking her neck with my mouth, she slips her fingers around my wrists and drags my arms above my head and I didn't expect it to be such a turn on but it is and…

I know what I should do.

I'm doing it for her, I'm being a good friend.

It takes a moment, but I break my wrists out of her tightened grip and push her off of me lightly yet firmly, and I say, "We can't."

I get out of the bed and adjust my t-shirt, and when she's silent I look down to see her gazing at me with big, dilated slate colored eyes, and its like she's attempting her puppy dog look but only with her eyes, and then they close and she passes out on the spot.

I sigh and somehow maneuver her onto my back and hold her hips tightly and lean forward so her torso's all up against me and somehow clasp her wrist between my chin and my neck and after a while she's heavy on me but we're out Oliver's front door and into the night and it's better than her regretting what could have just happened.

I tell myself that until we're both situated at her house in her bed (it was closer) and I tell myself to sleep.

-

I wake up to a loud THUD and hear myself croak "Miley?"

"Unhh.. my head…" I hear her response from the ground.

Holy _shit_, I haven't talked to her in three months and now I'm here and last night is flooding back into my mind and… oh god.

My stomach starts going crazy, clenching in fear and pleasure and a bunch of other emotions, and I break into a cold sweat on the spot.

I peek over the edge of the other side of the bed, and find her with her eyes screwed shut as she's on her back on the floor.

And even after last night and the agonizingly slow three months without her, the butterflies that emerge in my already chaotic stomach don't seem to have a speck of dust on them.

"Hi," she croaks, accent thick and raspy in just one syllable and I almost curse myself for ending what I ended last night.

I can't bring myself to say anything, as she gazes up into my eyes with an unreadable expression. I suddenly feel foreign and strange in her bed and her house and before her.

I tear the blankets from my body, and get out of the bed hastily.

My hand is flinging onto the door when Miley groans, "Oh, god, Lilly, stop stomping! Stay!"

I freeze.

Ugh, it's really pointless to run this time.

Obviously after last night I'm not the only one that has some confessions to make, or some things to be a little embarrassed of.

Okay, a lot embarrassed of.

I crawl back into the bed and look down at her again. She's wincing and has the heel of her palm pressed to her forehead. She stands carefully.

It's quiet. Too quiet.

"Miley?"

I'm greeted with a sudden sharp pain in the arm, and "OW! What the hell was that for!?"

"It was for ignoring me for three months straight, ya big donut! Like, how _could _you, especially after…"

I could tell Miley felt really awkward about all this. I felt a seething beat of self-loathe rush through me.

"Yeah. We… need to talk." It was getting easier and easier to talk. But I was shaking regardless.

"Yeah. So. What's up?"

"Nothing, just chillin', you?"

"Lilly."

"Ugh, okay, obviously there's no way to make this easy."

"No," she agreed in a bitter tone.

"What, you're actually mad?"

"What do you mean, 'you're actually mad?' Hell yeah I'm actually mad! Lilly, how could you just leave me hangin' like that and not say a word to me all summer?! How do you think I felt about all that?!"

"I have no idea how I should think about whatever's going through your head after what you pulled last night!"

Miley froze, eyes widened in horror. She scrambled off the bed and stood pressing her knees to it, looking anywhere but at me.

"We have to talk about this." My voice was low and shaky.

"Okay, you first," She said hotly, jamming an accusing finger in my face, "Why the hell did you just kiss me and run the night of Spring Fling?! Why did you run away the last day of school? Why have you been acting so different all year? Lilly, just tell me what's going on!"

I jumped up off the bed and stood across her so it was between us. "Oh, no, no, no, no, _no_, I asked you first! I'm not gonna let you dance around this Miley, you need to explain to me why the hell you practically molested me on Oliver's bed last night, and I _know _you remember it, for the sake of God, I know"

Miley took a shaky breath, and bowed her head. "Lilly," she said, dangerously low, "I was drunk. I was trying to have fun. There's your answer. Happy?"

Even though I knew it wasn't true, I felt my eyes sting with tears.

Even though I knew she was lying, the tears escaped and I sniffed, "No."

She looked up, looking like a deer in headlights, and I quickly wiped my eyes and sniffed again and she said softly, "Lilly, for the _last time_… just spit it out! _Please…_"

I looked at her, and for a long second it felt like I was going through some kind of time warp thing where the whole room shrunk behind her and into her and I took one big look at her and her knitted brow and sympathetic eyes and then attached my eyes to the fold of her mussed quilt and inhaled, long and deep.

"Miley, I—"

You started, now finish. Just finish the sentence. Should I say 'love you' or 'like you' or—

"Miley, when you're… when you're in the room," my voice dropped to a whisper, "it's like I can't see or feel or notice anything but you, and it's really, really hard for me to say this but all year I've been thinking about you nonstop and I know it's really weird and wrong and I know you're probably completely grossed out right now, and now that I'm saying this out loud to you it does sound really weird, but I" I took a deep breath, "I…" I tried to think back to the third day of summer when I explained to Oliver how I felt, "When you're in the room, and you're all real and in front of me and I'm not just thinking or wishing for you to be there, it's like I'm dreaming, and it's like…" My eyes trail along the folds of the quilt. "It's like… Well, I'm in love with you."

I wish I could see her face right now, but I'm so scared out of my ass I can't look anywhere but at the bed, and then I almost start crying again because now I know what's left to say and I screw my eyes shut to keep the fresh tears in and just wait. I wait and wait and wait for her to say it as my brow furrows and I see nothing but darkness and it is a dark place—rejection, that is.

"Lilly…" her voice has never sounded softer, and here it comes.

"NO! Save it, save it, just save it!" I screamed, "I don't think I can take hearing it!"

I turned around and made a break for the door, but as I yanked it open it slammed right back shut and I was suddenly pressed back against it and this time when Miley's lips pressed against mine my tears were slipping between our lips making it taste salty.

The kiss was soft and still at first, the opposite of last night's, and it felt like I was floating as Miley led me back onto the bed, and she pushed me down gingerly, and I felt the hot beads of sweat about to break out from beneath my skin and as Miley's lips grew a little more firm they broke out and I was hot all over.

She was… she was kissing me. The girl I've been thinking about nonstop for the past year was kissing _me_.

I felt nothing but her lips on my and eventually the slickness of every surface of her mouth and how soft and supple the texture of her tongue was as well as strong and rough and gentle it proved to be as it slid passionately against mine.

And that's what it was. Minutes of passion, bouncing from me to her and everywhere in between.

When is she going to start regretting this one? I begin to wonder in sudden spite, and to my utmost horror her lips are pulling away from mine, but my eyes stay closed and I'm relieved as I feel her short breaths hit my mouth.

I press my lips to hers again, and they're still soft and she's still into it, if not more, and I sighed out of pleasure and relief.

I lay there and just feel as she pulls away and rubs the rounding of her lips against mine, and it's like a dam is breaking when she pulls back and does it again, but then she pulls back some more.

"Lilly," she rasps, mutters against my mouth, "When you kiss me, I… well, I guess I understand what you've been going through after all."

Once I hear this, my eyes open, and I find Miley gazing into me with an expression I can't quite classify.

"This," she begins, and reaches over to her night table and pulls out the drawer and I see a familiar red CD case. "Was… the most adorable thing. Ever."

I press my lips to hers again, and she snakes her fingers through my hair and I shudder and she holds my head in place so she can successfully pull away again. I listen to what she has to say with my eyes closed.

"But there's one problem."

My eyes flicker open. "What?!" I gasp. Please don't say it's because we're both girls, please don't say it's because we're both girls, please don't say it's because we're both girls—

She chuckles again. "We can only have one of them as our song," she says against my lips.

'_Let me back into_

_Into your arms…'_

"_Into Your Arms" – The Maine_

End.

-

**So… how was it? Too much detail, any ends you feel I should have tied up? **

**Anyway, thanks again to all of you reviewers. Not sure what I'm doing next but it'll be up within the next month or so.**

**See ya! :D**


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